


The Beauty in Compassion

by Kasani



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-02-25 07:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 46,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2613185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kasani/pseuds/Kasani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His plan had been so simple when he'd passed through the gate: Find Hohenheim and kill him. Nothing more, nothing less. The plan hadn't included his powers turning against him, or having to accept help from a human girl. Especially not a girl like this. Now, trapped in a confusing tangle of past and present, it's becoming increasingly clear that he should have killed her at once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I've decided to stick another one of my stories up here. This one isn't completely finished, but it's pretty close. I wasn't going to bother with an author's note, but I suppose there are a few details worth mentioning before you start. Obviously this is an Envy-centric fanfic, and I'm warning you in advance that he's very much _in_ character for a decent chunk of the story. The romance progresses quite slowly and the story mainly focuses on the development of Envy's character, partly through the exploration of his past. So there will be a number of "flashbacks" to his past in the first few chapters of the story. Hopefully no one finds this confusing. I've thrown the dates and general locations in to give some clarity to the different scenes in this first chapter. If you have any questions, just ask. ;)

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~~~~~~~~(Amestris, Year 1914)~~~~~~~~~~

**

****

"You're gonna pay for that!" The young alchemist shouted, recovering from a kick to the head that had knocked him to the ground.

Envy watched him, a contemptuous smirk twisting his lips. The boy, his half-brother, scrambled back to his feet and lunged at the homunculus. Envy dodged out of the way easily, the punch only succeeding in brushing aside a piece of his long, green hair. Edward pursued him across the polished, ballroom floor but was unable to land a single blow. The shapeshifter spun away from his attacks effortlessly.

"Keep trying Ed. I'm much stronger than you," Envy taunted. Then he turned and sprang into a series of progressively higher back flips before leaping into the air far higher than any human could ever manage. He landed on his feet in a catlike manner some distance from the blond boy. He felt a thrill of satisfaction at the look of consternation on Edward's face. Oh, he was enjoying this. The very sight of his little half-brother filled him with loathing. The kid had no idea just how in over his head he was. Envy's combat experience exceeded Edward's by several centuries. And not only that, Ed was the son of the man whom Envy despised with every fiber of his being. The green haired homunculus had been consumed by hatred long before the blond boy had even been born, and while Ed wasn't the original object of that hatred, he filled the role quite nicely in his father's stead.

As Envy stepped backwards, keeping his eyes on his opponent across the room, something latched onto his ankle. He glanced down in surprise. The child homunculus, Wrath, despite having been robbed of both an arm and a leg, was clinging to him with his remaining hand as tightly as he could manage. The boy appeared to be attempting to slow the older homunculus down. A scowl twisted Envy's features. How dare the worthless runt get in his way! In a wave of irritation he turned to kick the child repeatedly, pitiless to the boy's badly injured state. Seizing Envy's distraction as an opportunity, Edward darted towards him and full out tackled him. The pair fell to the ground and rolled, coming to a stop with Edward on top. Envy felt a wash of contemptuous amusement. What exactly did the kid hope to achieve with this? Without Envy's former remains and the appropriate transmutation circle, Edward had no means to do him any permanent harm. Nevertheless, without hesitation the young alchemist landed a solid punch on the shapeshifter's face. Abruptly Envy's features morphed into that of Ed's mother.

"Don't hurt me Edward," she pleaded.

"Don't mess with me!" Edward yelled, punching him again. Envy had to bite back a mocking laugh. Don't mess with him? As soon as he lost interested in messing with him then the kid was dead meat. Besides which, he wasn't ready to cut the fun short just yet.

"Edward, please stop it!" Tim Marco's face now stared up at the boy. Ed struck the homunculus again without hesitation. Envy's features shifted to that of the late Maes Hughes.

"Calm down," he ordered, his amusement showing forth in a mocking grin. Undaunted, Edward punched him again. Envy, taking a swift mental inventory of his potential options, shifted once more, this time to the form of Roy Mustang.

"Give up kid. You don't have what it takes to kill me," he declared in Roy's most patronizing tone. Edward blinked in surprise, and then he smirked.

"I don't think you could have picked an easier target!" He cried, continuing to beat the homunculus about the head. Since he didn't appear to be getting anywhere with his current tactic, Envy shifted back to his preferred form, making no effort to defend himself. There wasn't any need to. His half-brother would never be able to truly injure him. At the moment he was simply enjoying seeing just how much he'd succeeded in upsetting the kid. Edward appeared to have completely lost it. "Show me what you really look like! Instead of being a coward whose only real power is to hide behind other people's faces!" The alchemist yelled between punches. Envy raised an eyebrow, a twisted smirk playing across his lips.

"Do you really want to see?" he asked tauntingly.

_"Stop jerking me around!"_ Edward shouted, drawing his arm back in preparation for another punch.

"You asked for it!" The shapeshifter snapped. Then Envy's features shifted once more to a form which, though he rarely used it, felt as familiar as breathing as it rippled over him. It was the form of a young man, several years older than Edward but possessing the same long, blond hair and golden eyes. Edward froze mid punch, staring down at him in horrified shock. A slight smile pulled at Envy's lips. The look on his half-brother's face was priceless. "What's wrong?" He asked, voice now much deeper and more masculine, "I thought you wanted to see?"

"Y-you're…his son…" Edward's voice shook, disbelief written across his face. While Envy's expression didn't change, his hatred simmered to an even hotter degree at the mention of their father. Yes, he was that bastard's son; just as Edward was. But the only tie he felt towards the blond boy was one of contempt. He'd wanted to dispose of him since the day he was born, and now he finally had that chance.

"Envy was the first homunculus, created by Hohenheim of Light almost four hundred years ago; the result of the failed transmutation of our son, who died prematurely of mercury poisoning." The voice which spoke up from a short distance off was Dante's. She'd been observing the fight from the sidelines, holding an infant in her arms. Rose, the baby's mother, stood at her side in a trance. "I suppose you could say that Envy was once your brother," Dante added. Edward was frozen in place, clearly horrified to find the monster who he'd intended to kill was actually related to him.

"But then he abandoned me; started fresh with his perfect wife and kids. Needless to say, I never did like being replaced," Envy said. Though his voice was calm, his hatred had reached an uncontrollable level. His eyes widened with an insane sort of anticipation and he abruptly shifted his arm into a blade and plunged it through Edward's gut, running his brother through. Ed let out a gasp and coughed up blood, staring down at the homunculus wide eyed, as if he could hardly believe what had just happened. Envy shifted back to his preferred form, grinned twistedly in triumph as he watched the life disappear from his half-brother's eyes. Finally he withdrew his arm, allowing the now dead Edward slump to the floor.

"Brother?" The gasp of alarm came from Alphonse, his armored body lying at the center of a glowing transmutation circle in the middle of the large room. Next to Dante, Rose's dazed expression shifted, her deadened eyes slowly returning to life.

"Edward…..Ed?" she whispered, now becoming fully aware of the situation. Seeing the pool of blood spreading out around the blond boy's corpse, her eyes widened in horror and she let out a desperate scream. "Edward!" She tried to dash towards him but Dante grabbed her arm, holding her in place. Envy rose to his feet, resting a hand on his hip as he stared down at his half-brother.

"That was too easy. Humans are so pathetic," his tone was caustic. While it was gratifying to have finally been able to get rid of the kid, he was far from satisfied.

"Brother… No, you can't die! It's supposed to be me!" Alphonse cried, distraught.

"He's dead?" Wrath rasped the question from where he was still sprawled on the floor.

"That's right. He's setting the pace for every human to follow. Now we'll kill off each one of them until only homunculi are left," Envy's tone was gleefully cruel and he let out a mocking peal of laughter. One by one the humans would fall before them. Each death would whet his appetite for vengeance, keeping his malice vibrantly alive. But it wouldn't be enough. He would never be completely satisfied until he'd watched the light disappear from his father's eyes as the man was slaughtered by the hand of his first born son.

"Brother can't die…that's ridiculous! He wouldn't let that happen! He couldn't…" Al's voice shook.

"That's reality for you. All the effort he gave got him nothing in return. You can pay all you want. It's never enough," Dante commented, unmoved by the murderous actions of her own son. A ravenous Gluttony, who'd been holding back on the sidelines during the violent exchange between the half-brothers, abruptly lunged towards the armored boy, swiftly beginning to consume the philosopher's stone within him.

"Don't do this," Rose pleaded, desperate but helpless to stop the horror which was playing out before her eyes. Then the sound of a resounding clap echoed through the room.

"That sound…what did he just do?" Dante demanded with a frown. Gluttony jerked back from the suit of armor, clawing at his face in what appeared to be stupid confusion. He was now lacking a bottom jaw.

"He used alchemy with the stone," Envy spoke up, sounding taken aback. Alphonse slowly began to get to his feet. Dante shoved the baby into Rose's arms, a scowl on her face as she started towards him.

"You petulant child! Look at the damage you've inflicted on yourself. Sit down before you're wasted completely!" She ordered heatedly.

"Stay back!" Al snapped, bringing Dante up short, "You can't make me do anything." There was an edge to his voice. He turned and walked over to the body of his brother.

"And what do you think you can pull off?" Dante demanded. Her tone was irritated.

"Brother hasn't been dead for long. Look, there's still some color in his face," Al said, reaching down to cup his brother's cheek. "His soul is probably still at the gate. I just have to pull it back, the same way he did for me."

"Don't be a fool. You know what would happen to you," Dante said, her eyes narrowing.

"Yeah, I do. A lot of people died to make this stone. And I would have died too if not for them. It's time I gave my share and made my own choice," The armored boy replied firmly.

"Alphonse?" Rose asked uncertainly.

"Goodbye Rose," Al replied. Envy's eyes widened as he realized what the boy intended to do. He'd finally succeeded in getting rid of one of his half-brothers. There was no way in hell he'd let the other one bring Ed back. With a yell of rage he threw himself at the suit of armor. "This is for you brother," Al said, clapping his hands together. Abruptly the room was flooded with the blinding light of an enormous transmutation, multiple circles lighting up around the room. Envy's eyes widened in shock as he plunged into the radiant light.

When the light faded he found himself standing in a strange, empty space. Edward stood before him, appearing oddly translucent. Envy blinked in surprise, and then frowned. He'd killed the kid! What the hell was he doing here? In a wash of anger he stormed up to him

"What's going on? Where am I you worm?" he demanded petulantly.

"The gate," Ed replied softly. Envy gasped, turning to find the enormous doors were indeed in plain sight behind him.

"So what's on the other side of it?" he demanded, glancing back at Edward.

"I don't know. For me it was a place called London if I remember right. That's what my old man said," the blond boy replied.

"Old man? You mean Hohenheim of Light?!" Envy's tone was sharp.

"Yes," Ed replied. Envy drew in a surprised breath.

"You're telling me he's still alive?!" he cried. His hatred flared up with renewed fervor. Then he turned back toward the gate with a growl, an eager grin on his face. He marched up to the giant doors and began attempting to pry them open.

"I wouldn't do that," Ed told him softly, "There's no way to know where it will lead you."

"Like hell there isn't. I'll tell it exactly where to take me," Envy retorted. He managed to pull the doors apart, propping them open with his spread arms and staring into the gate's depths as a multitude of eyes stared back at him. "I've come to kill him," he declared, "Take me to Hohenheim of Light!" At his request a number of dark arms reached out, coiling about his limbs and pulling him in. He felt a thrill of satisfaction. This was it. After centuries of waiting, he would finally get to take his revenge. As the arms pulled him inside the large doors he was surrounded by golden light. He passed deeper into the gate, and then the arms which had taken hold of him began to shift and morph into small, infant like creatures which clung to him eagerly. Envy's confident expression wavered, slightly weirded out by the strange occurrence. Then his features shifted into a scowl.

"Stop messing with me! You'll do as I tell you!" He yelled. In a rush of angry panic he transformed into the smaller form of his half-brother Edward, successfully riding himself of the clingy children. "You're taking me to see Hohenheim!" He ordered forcefully, "To that bastard!" He shifted again, this time into his true form. In his rush he'd allowed his former clothes, a white dress shirt and dark vest, to replace the clothing of his preferred form. "To my father!" his cry echoed resoundingly in the strange space which he was travelling through. In a rush of excited anticipation he was about to shift once more, the form of a giant serpent in his mind as he envisioned an ideal form for tearing his prey to shreds. But just as he was about to change, a sound caught his attention.

"William," an eerily familiar voice called to him in the distance. His eyes widened slightly in shock at the name, form wavering uncertainly. It had been centuries since anyone had called him by that name. Where had he heard that voice before? It was a soft, female voice which stirred something long forgotten deep within the core of his being.

"William," it called again. His long since deadened heart clenched painfully at the familiarity. The old memories which it stirred brought with them a sharp pang of regret, although he could no longer remember why. Far ahead of him in the golden light a form appeared, faintly shimmering. He was unable to make out the figure's face, but it appeared to be a young woman. He saw her reach a hand in his direction and her voice dropped to a whisper, although it was still readily audible as it echoed around him.

"I love you," the words were filled with a tender sadness which he had lost the ability to comprehend. But those words were the last thing he remembered before everything dissolved into blackness.

 

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~~~~~~~~(Amestris, Year 1517)~~~~~~~~~~

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"William, are you almost done with that?" the soft voice was patiently amused. The young man sitting at the desk glanced up from the book he'd been bent over studying. His blond hair fell to his broad shoulders, swept back from his face in a slightly dishevelled manner. Warm golden eyes set in a ruggedly handsome face were apologetic as he met the gaze of the young woman in the doorway.

"Sorry Calandra. I just got a little sidetracked. I think father is really on to something with this idea of his," he said, his voice deep and masculine. He rose to his feet and crossed the room to her.

"Of course he is," her light grey eyes were skeptical, "And you, as a dutiful son, feel the need to pour your heart and soul into his research. But you do need some fresh air every now and then. Come spend some time with me," she suggested.

"Alright," he smiled, reaching out to brush a strand of her silvery blond hair behind her ear. It fell past her shoulders in loose ringlets. She took his hand, weaving her fingers with his as she turned and lead him out of the room.

Outside the late afternoon sun shone down on the large city. The couple strolled down the sidewalk, hand in hand. A horse drawn carriage clattered past them down the road, splashing through the muddy puddles left over from the recent spring rain. Street venders called out the merits of their goods, waving them under the noses of those passing by. The shrieks and laughter of a group of children nearby mingled with the sound of barking of dogs, the clattering of hooves on the cobblestones, and the chatter from the larger than normal crowds of people who were out and about on this warm, spring day. The city was abuzz over the upcoming festival. Banners and other bright decorations were being hung about the city. Paper lanterns of different colors were strung across the street between the buildings. The air was filled with an almost tangible excitement.

"I'm amazed it's this time of year already. Where do the days go?" Williams tone was bemused.

"You always lose track of time when you're caught up in a project. I miss you, you know," Calandra glanced at him, expression wistful. William felt a pang of guilt.

"Alright, I'll tell you what. I'll stay away from my alchemy until the festival is over. We can spend the time together," he told her. Her eyes lit up and a smile spread across her face.

"I would love that," she replied earnestly. He couldn't help but smile at her reaction. Her obvious happiness was rather contagious. He tended to forget how much he enjoyed spending time with his childhood friend and sweetheart. His alchemy had become so engrossing in recent years that often times there was little room for anything else. He felt a prick of regret over how many times he'd brushed the blond girl off over the last few weeks. She didn't deserve that.

"Callie, why don't we buy some lanterns for tonight? It's been a couple years since we bothered taking part in the opening festivities," he suggested.

"That would be fun!" she agreed. They turned down a different street, a specific destination now in mind. They walked in companionable silence for a time. Finally Calandra glanced at the young man walking next to her.

"Will," she began, "After we get the lanterns, do you want to come with me for a ride? You haven't come along in ages," her expression was hopeful. He blinked at her surprise. Her family owned a piece of land just outside the city where they bred and raised carriage horses. In the past they'd gone riding together often, but lately he hadn't had the time to bother making the trip.

"Sure, why not. It'll be a date," he replied with a smile. She grinned.

"You've probably forgotten how to ride it's been so long," her tone was teasing.

"Nah, it's like riding a bike," he retorted, unconcerned. She snorted.

"A bike is a piece of equipment. A horse is a living, breathing, thinking creature. There's a difference you know," her tone was dry.

"Yeah yeah. It's alright. I'll have you there to take me to the hospital when your gallant steed bucks me off," he replied lightly. She flashed him an indignant look, elbowing him in the side. He winced and chuckled.

"If you get yourself injured by acting like a fool it's hardly my responsibility to save you," she informed him flatly.

"Keep in mind it was your idea to go riding," he pointed out, faintly amused. She rolled her eyes.

"Whatever, we're here," she said, coming to a stop outside the shop they'd arrived at. William released her hand, pulling the door open for her and bowing low in a courtly manner.

"After you my lady," his golden eyes were solemn as he gazed up at her. As expected, her serious expression wavered and broke, a giggle escaping her lips.

"You're such a goof," she grinned, strolling past him into the shop. He straightened up, following after her with a smile.

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~~~~~~~~(Germany, Year 1921)~~~~~~~~~~

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Envy's eyes snapped open with a start and he gasped in a sharp breath. He was lying on his back. A multitude of stars glittered in the dark sky above him. He blinked several times, mind reeling from the potently remembered flashback. That had been so long ago that it had disappeared into the recesses of his mind, long forgotten. But the sights and sounds and emotions had been as vivid as if it had happened yesterday. That woman… it had been her voice calling to him in the gate. He could still see her clear grey eyes behind his own eyelids whenever he closed them. The regret which welled up inside of him at the thought of her was shockingly intense, and very puzzling. He couldn't remember why it was attached to her memory. And really, it didn't matter. William was long dead, and any emotional attachments he'd had should have died with him. The fact that this memory had resurfaced now was nothing but a bother. With any luck it would fade quickly and disappear once more. He had more important things to occupy himself with.

He sat up swiftly, glancing around. He appeared to be lying in a ditch next to an old, dirt road. The moon was full, illuminating the rolling hills around him. He scrambled to his feet, peering down the road. Far in the distance he could see the lights of a town. Where exactly had the gate taken him? Was that town London, the place Edward had mentioned? Was Hohenheim still there? The easiest way to find out would be to grab the first human he came across and drag the answers he needed out of them. With this in mind, he set off down the road in the direction of the distant lights.

It was some time later before he came across the first of the houses which were scattered along the far outskirts of the settlement. The town itself didn't appear overly large. He came to a halt, eyeing the nearest small, unassuming house. He hadn't passed anyone on the road and he was growing impatient. Rather than continue towards the town, which was still some distance away, he turned off the road and made for the house. A thought occurred to him partway up the path to the front door and he glanced down at himself. He felt a prick of surprise, followed by a wave of irritation to discover the form he was in was in fact his true form. He'd caught a glimpse of his blond hair out of the corner of his eye and he recognized the clothes, which he now held in distaste. That wouldn't do at all. He hated this form. It reminded him far too much of the man he needed to kill. Without pausing to think, he willed a transformation into his most comfortable form. It wouldn't occur to him until later that perhaps that hadn't been the wisest choice, given it wasn't a form in which he could traverse amongst humans without drawing attention to himself.

As the first prickle of energy began to flow through him with the change, his stomach wrenched alarmingly. His eyes widened and a gasp escaped his lips. The usual wave of energy which followed brought with it an agonizing, shredding pain as he felt each bone, each muscle, his skin and cartilage shift and change in a way he had never experienced before. What on earth was going on? It had never caused him pain like this to shift before. As the energy crackled through him a strangled cry escaped his lips and his legs gave out beneath him. He hit the ground hard, unable to even catch himself. It was like all the muscles in his body had turned to jelly. He'd lost every ounce of strength which he'd moments ago possessed. An intense fatigue he couldn't recall ever experiencing crashed over him and seconds later his eyes slid shut and he lost consciousness.

 

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~~~~~~~~(Amestris, Year 1517)~~~~~~~~~~

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"William, don't be an idiot. What if your horse spooks?" Calandra's voice was faintly exasperated as she stared at her companion riding next to her. The young man was leaning forward, head rested on folded arms across his horse's neck as he appeared to take a nap. His mount, being an old, patient creature, was going along with it for the time being, though its ears were flicked back in displeasure.

"Old Toby? He's practically bomb proof," William replied unconcernedly, not even bothering to open his eyes. Calandra rolled her eyes.

"No horse is entirely bomb proof," she said, "And besides, if he puts his head down you'll be in the dirt before you can blink."

"Aww, he wouldn't do that. Right old man?" William reached an arm down to pat the neck of his dark bay steed.

"You are incredibly dense at times," His companion muttered. The young man chuckled.

"You worry too much," he retorted. His horse, Toby, let out a heavy sigh. The young woman rolled her eyes.

"Well you are the most boring company I've had in ages. Come along, Rita. Let's leave these two in the dust," she spoke to her own mount, a young palomino mare. The creature's ears perked up as her mistress shortened the reins and urged her forward. Feeling rather fresh on such a pleasant spring day, the mare sprang into a swift canter, racing away across the field. William's mount, not wanting to be left behind, broke into a trot, half-heartedly attempting to follow after the other horse. This, of course, threw his unsuspecting rider off balance. The young man let out a startled oath, scrambling to avoid flipping off his horse's neck into the dirt.

"Calandra!" He called after her in irritation, resettling himself in the saddle and taking proper hold of his reins. He could hear the young woman's laughter ahead of him. With an exasperated sigh he urged his mount forward. The creature complied without complaint, quite happy to race after its companion. Calandra had pushed her own horse into a gallop, widening the distance between them. "Alright Toby, let's get them," William muttered, lightly applying his spurs. The creature leapt forward, lengthening its strides into a full out gallop as well. Being a larger animal than the younger mare, Toby immediately began gaining on the other rider. It didn't take long for them to catch up completely. The two riders raced along, neck and neck as the ground they were riding across began to rise into a hill. Sensing her mistress's competitive mood, the golden mare let out a snort, putting on a burst of excited speed, shooting ahead of the other horse. The pair reached the crest of the hill a moment later, Calandra several strides ahead of William. Rather than racing down the other side, which would likely prove hazardous given the steep slope, the two riders slowed there steeds, bringing them to a stop.

"Ha!" The young woman grinned victoriously at her companion, "Beat you," she teased. Her mare, still excited from the sprint across the field, pranced restlessly in place, tossing her head. William's mount stood quietly, puffing slightly and quite happy to no longer be moving.

"Yeah, whatever. You had a head start," William muttered, ever so slightly put out.

"That's what you get for not paying attention," Calandra replied, an amused smile playing across her lips. The young man rolled his eyes but smirked.

"Alright, you've made your point," his tone was dry. She chuckled softly, reaching down to stroke her mare's neck as the creature finally began to quiet down. William watched his companion for a moment. Her golden curls caught the light of the slowly sinking sun, just a shade darker than her mount's cream colored mane. Her willowy frame matched up well with the slender build of the creature. They made a winsome picture together in the sun's setting rays. She glanced up at him, grey eyes slightly wistful.

"I've missed doing this with you. Today has been a lot of fun," she told him.

"It has… We should do this more often," William agreed, feeling the same prick of guilt as earlier. He was going to have to set his priorities straight when it came to managing alchemy and the rest of his life. Then again, he was so sure he and his father were close to a breakthrough in their studies. Getting back into a social life would have to wait until they'd reached their goal. The work was too engrossing to simply set aside. He let out a soft sigh, glancing at the slowly sinking sun. "We should start heading back if we want to make to the opening festivities," he suggested.

"I suppose you're right," Calandra replied. The two of them turned their mounts back in the direction they had come from. The young man glanced at his companion, raising an eyebrow mischievously.

"Race you home?" he suggested. She shot him a flat look.

"You know that's bad training for the horses," she replied, unenthused.

"Don't be such a spoil sport," he smirked, shortening his reins and urging his mount forward at a faster speed.

"William!" she cried indignantly. He grinned.

"Catch me if you can!" he called back over his shoulder, already racing back down the more gradual of the two slopes. The young woman rolled her eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh.

"Men," she muttered under her breath, urging her mount forward in pursuit.

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~~~~~~~~(Germany, Year 1921)~~~~~~~~~~

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Envy's eyes slowly flickered open for the second time that day. For a moment he stared blankly into space, still tangled in the web of unfamiliar emotions which the dream had raised within him. Why was he having these flashbacks? They were distinctly uncomfortable. He barely recognized the young man that had long ago been him. He was no longer that person. That had been another life. The memories shouldn't mean anything to him at all. He swallowed, setting aside the turmoil within him to take note of his current situation.

His whole body was throbbing uncomfortably and he felt oddly exhausted. He raised his head, glancing down at himself to find he was indeed in his preferred form. At least the transformation had worked, but he didn't have the slightest idea why it had taken such a toll on him. Confusion washed over him as he took in his surroundings. He was lying on a couch in what appeared to be a cosy living room. A light blanket was draped over him. Morning sunlight shone in from several windows. The one nearest him looked out over rolling, green pastureland. How on earth had he gotten here? Going back through his memory he realized that he'd passed out on the ground in front of a human dwelling. Whoever lived there must have found him and brought him inside. But what sort of person would be willing to bring such a… _unique_ looking individual as himself into their home, no questions asked? Whoever it was, they were about to get an unpleasant surprise. After the events of the day he was not in a particularly gracious mood.

He sat up, feeling a wash of irritation over how weak his muscles felt. It was like all the power of the red stones within him had melted away to nothing. The clinking of cutlery and the sound of running water could be heard coming from another part of the house. Mustering what little strength he had left, he rose to his feet and headed across the living room. Walking a short distance down the hall brought him to the doorway of what appeared to be the kitchen. Here was the source of the noise. There was a young woman standing at the sink with her back to him. She was in the process of washing dishes. A grey dressing gown was wrapped about her slender frame, her pale hair cascading down her back in loose curls. She was humming softly to herself as she worked, oblivious to his presence. A humorless smirk pulled at Envy's lips. Well this worked out perfectly. He could get the information he needed, then kill her and slip away with no one the wiser.

He started towards her quietly. Unfortunately the floor squeaked annoyingly, alerting her to his approach. She turned in surprise. At the sight of her face Envy came to a dead stop, frozen in place. He was unable to even breathe. It was as if someone had driven a knife through his cold, unfeeling heart. The light grey eyes, pert nose and small mouth were all alarmingly familiar. It was that same girl; the one from his flashbacks. Alarm was written across her features. She was clearly uncertain as to what his intentions were for sneaking up on her. Silence reigned for a moment as they stared at each other. Envy couldn't move an inch, paralyzed as he was by the strange emotions swirling inside him. Shock, confusion, guilt, regret, longing…wait. _Longing?_ For a _human?_ He closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly. This was utterly absurd. He needed to get a grip! This was not the same woman from those flashbacks. She would have died centuries ago on the other side of the gate. On top of which, any feelings he'd had for her should have died with William. This reaction made no sense.

"Are you alright?" Her soft voice made his eyes snap open. He found that her expression of alarm had shifted to one of concern. That voice… the eerie familiarity of it sent a chill through him. He regarded her warily for a moment. The feelings she was raising just by standing in front of him were unnerving. The most intelligent response would be to kill her immediately and end this absurdity. Then maybe he'd stop getting flashbacks and these unusual emotions would cease plaguing him. But... he couldn't bring himself to move an inch closer to her. Suddenly the thought of snapping her neck, an action that would be so simple, made his stomach twist sickeningly. That in and of itself was a little frightening. He'd never felt any sort of hesitation to kill in the past. How was it possible for a human girl to hold such sway over him? She didn't have the slightest idea who he was. There was no way she could realize how great an effect the confused uncertainty in her large eyes was having on him. This was utterly ridiculous. He needed to get away from her.

Without a word he turned away and strode swiftly from the room, heading for the front door.

"Wait!" She called after him. He tensed as he heard her following after him. There was no way he could risk having an actual conversation with her. He didn't trust himself. There was a small, distant part of him that wanted to stay and find out more about this woman from his memories. Why did his heart clench just thinking about her? What had happened in the past to cause that kneejerk reaction? He couldn't remember. But he didn't have time to waste on such trivial, pointless things. There was a man he needed to kill. These memories would do nothing but slow him down.

He reached the door and pulled it open, slipping out swiftly before the young woman could catch up with him. He'd just have to find somebody else to get information out of.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops. I completely forgot that I started uploading this on this site. I finished it ages ago. *sweatdrop* Guess I'll stick the rest of it up here now!

_**Three days later…** _

"Who the hell do you think you are, freak?" The man was young, probably still in his teens, with a lanky appearance.

"He's a damn thief, that's who," barked one of his comrades. He was a short, middle-aged man with a scowl twisting his features.

"Your type isn't welcome in these parts," rumbled the third, a burly man who towered over the other two. In the shadow of the buildings on either side, with the moonlight at their backs, the trio was a rather imposing sight for someone cornered at the end of an alley. At least, they would be to a normal individual. Envy tilted his head, eyes narrowing contemptuously. This was such a nuisance. He'd only been trying to get his hands on something to eat, and would have succeeded if those damn dogs hadn't raised such a racket. The fact that his body had begun demanding sustenance over the last few days was an enormous hindrance, and he hadn't the slightest idea what had caused the change. The only possibility he could surmise was that the power which the red stones usually offered him had been rendered useless upon passing through the gate. That would explain a few other things too...

"What do you have to say for yourself?" Lanky demanded sharply. An exasperated sigh escaped Envy's lips as he rolled his eyes. He'd only broken a window. The idiots should really have been grateful they were still alive. If his powers hadn't been giving him such a hard time he would have finished the three of them off by now. At the very least he would have slipped through their fingers. But he couldn't risk shapeshifting; not after what had happened last time. To make matters worse, he couldn't afford to get injured either. His healing abilities had backfired on him. Without the power of the red stones to draw on, they did more harm than good. Sure, his wounds still healed. But that generally meant he blacked out as well.

"Well?!" Lanky was apparently getting impatient.

"Shut your trap," Envy spat. The young man took an involuntary step back at the venom in the shapeshifter's voice. Seeing his comrade waver, Burly drew himself up intimidatingly.

"Watch your tone stranger. We're well within our rights to—" his threatening rumble was cut off by a harsh laugh.

"Do I look like I give a damn about your rights?" Envy sneered.

"He looks like something the cat dragged home," Shorty muttered as an aside to his companions. At this, Lanky let out a snicker. Envy's lip curled in distaste at the cliche insult.

"We don't tolerate queers like you in these parts. You'll get the hell out of our town if you know what's good for you," Shorty addressed the shapeshifter in an obnoxiously blustering manner. Envy's eye twitched. He couldn't help but wonder if there was something in the genotype of small humans that made them noisier than those of average height. The idiot reminded him of his half-brother.

"I don't take orders from scum." The words flew from Envy's mouth carelessly, and though he meant every word, he quickly realized that provoking the men in his current position hadn't been the wisest choice. He shifted his weight, bare feet planted firmly in gravel of the alley as he braced for an attack he knew was coming. He'd assumed the short one would be the first to leap to the offensive, so he was taken off guard when the youngest man lunged at him first. He managed to dodge out of the way narrowly, a curse escaping his lips. He danced away from a second poorly coordinated punch, and then found himself under assault from the opposite direction, Shorty having taken advantage of his distraction to dart behind him. Envy spun, landing a kick under the man's chin which knocked him flat on his back in the dust. Envy turned just in time to block another wild punch from Lanky, but as he moved to deliver a blow of his own, he was abruptly seized from behind. He'd forgotten about the burly man. Lanky wasted no time in taking advantage of the situation. Despite the sloppiness of his previous attacks, the man's fist came into solid contact with Envy's nose with breaking force. Under ordinary circumstances such an injury would merely serve to enrage him, but with is abilities now turned against him it was a far graver thing. As the energy inside him crackled in preparation to heal the injury, his eyes rolled back into his skull and he lost consciousness.

~~~~~***~~~~~

William stared moodily out of the window of the carriage as it bumped and clattered down the muddy dirt road. It had been raining steadily for the past few days and today was no exception. They had left the city behind them a short time ago and were now travelling through the countryside. His temper had slowly begun to simmer down over the course of the drive. There was only one person in the world who could anger him to the point of exploding. That person was his mother. She had a way with words. He knew of no one else who could turn the most innocuous of statements into a cutting remark as she could. It was utterly infuriating! He could barely stand to be around her for the course of an afternoon.

It wasn't long afterwards that the carriage turned down a long driveway and came to a stop in front of a residence. The place could only be described as a mansion. The driver dismounted from his seat and opened the carriage door for his passenger. William stepped out into the rain, wordlessly tipping the man before strolling up to the front door of the house. It was a heavy wooden door, ornately carved with a brass knocker in the center. He raised his hand to grasp it but was interrupted by the sound of clattering hooves and a voice calling his name.

"William!"

He turned in surprise. Calandra was cantering towards him down the driveway on the back of a tall, pinto steed, whose belly and formerly-white legs were dark with spattered with mud. She reined the horse in, coming to a swift halt in front of the young man before leaping down with ease, her tall riding boots rapping against the wet cobblestones of the drive. Without hesitation she threw her arms around William.

"Calandra," he greeted her, a smile tugging at his lips as he returned the girl's enthusiastic hug.

"I'm so happy you're here," she cried delightedly, pulling back to look at him. He opened his mouth to say something but she raised a finger, cutting him off. "Let me guess. You got in another fight with your mother?" she raised an eyebrow. He let out a resigned sigh and nodded. She smirked. "I love that woman."

"Excuse me?" William demanded, eyebrows raised in bewilderment.

"The only time you ever come see me anymore is when she gets under your skin," she informed him. A chuckle escaped his lips at her words.

"Callie, Callie, Callie… What am I going to do with you?" He smiled down her. "You're going to catch your death if you keep going for rides in the rain," he warned, taking in her soaked appearance with a raised eyebrow.

"I can't catch death. It rides too fast," she retorted with a grin. Her blond curls were stuck to her neck and shoulders, dark from the moisture soaking them. Her grey eyes were bright with enthusiasm and her cheeks were flushed from the cool air. Her endearing expression chased away any lingering feelings of disquiet from his earlier disagreement with his mother.

"Do you mind if I stay here a while?" He asked.

"You're always welcome here," she replied, stepping back to take hold of the reins of her patient steed, which had been quietly waiting while the young people greeted each other. "Come help me put this guy away and then we can go in and get something warm to drink," she suggested.

"Lead the way," William smiled.

~~~~~***~~~~~

Pain was the first thing Envy became aware of. His head was pounding like a drum and there was an awful taste in his mouth. He was a lying face down on the uneven surface of the road. Raising his head weakly, he spat out the mixture of blood and dirt that had congealed in his mouth. His breathing was labored as he rested his head back in the dust. His healing abilities had taken care of the injuries which the men had given him, but now he was too weak to move. Nausea twisted his gut and he shut his eyes, wishing he could pass out again. Judging by the faint light of early morning, he'd already been out for several hours. The men must have really laid into him after he'd been knocked out. At least they'd had the decency to dump him on the road outside of town. It saved him the difficulty of having to navigate out of the place without being spotted. But what the hell was he going to do now? If he didn't find some way to take care of himself he was going to wind up dead, sooner rather than later.

The sun had risen up over the horizon by the time he'd gathered enough strength to push himself into a seated position. The nausea had given way to ravenous hunger. His muscles were trembling from exhaustion but he needed to get moving before anyone found him sitting here in such a helpless state. He needed food and a safe place to rest where no one would come after him. But where on earth was he going to find that?

_You're always welcome here._

His jaw clenched at the memory. The only human that hadn't rejected him on sight so far was the young woman he'd first ran into after waking up on this side of the gate. She'd taken him into her home, no questions asked. But he wanted nothing to do with her. The emotions tied to the memory of his long ago childhood friend, whom she so closely resembled, disturbed him. And yet…he couldn't see any other options. If he got injured again anytime soon he was going to die. He had no reserves left for his healing powers to draw on. And on top of that, he needed sustenance, and had no way of easily getting his hands on it. Annoyance was plain in his expression as he gritted his teeth and slowly pushed himself to his feet, swaying from fatigue. He certainly had no intention of letting her help him. All he needed to do was kill her. He should have done that in the first place. Then the bizarre emotional attachment would be taken care of and he'd have her house to himself.

With this in mind, he set off staggering down the road. It took him some time in his weakened condition to make his way back to the woman's house. He stumbled up the path to the door and fell against it, using the support to keep from collapsing to his knees. He gasped for breath for several minutes, trying to muster up his remaining strength for the task ahead of him. Finally he tried the doorknob. It came as a faint surprise to find it wasn't locked. The door swung inward. Drawing upon his last dregs of energy he stepped inside and quietly shut the door behind him. He hesitated a moment, listening for any sounds. The house was silent, as if no one was home. Frowning, he made his way further into the house. The front door opened into the living room of the small dwelling. To his left was a hall which led to the kitchen. Farther down the hallway he found a bedroom, bathroom, and what appeared to be a laundry room of sorts. It quickly became apparent that no one else was in the building. What sort of person left their front door unlocked while they were away? After looking around the place it was clear to him that she lived alone, so it wasn't likely that she'd left the place open for another member of the household. Perhaps she felt safe since she lived outside of town?

Satisfied that he was alone in the house, he made his way back into the kitchen and, after a brief search, lighted upon a suitable sized knife. He couldn't afford to transform his arm into a weapon. Not in his current state. Now all that was left to do was await her return. He turned and made his way back into the living room. The old, well used couch looked incredibly inviting in his exhausted state. He sank down onto it, intending only to give his legs a momentary, and badly needed, rest. His eyes were fixed on the door across the room. He couldn't afford to relax until that young woman was dead. It would have to be done swiftly. He couldn't risk a conversation with her. After the strange flashbacks and the odd emotions that seeing her had triggered, he didn't trust himself not to hesitate. The possibility of being unable to follow through with killing her wasn't something he was prepared to risk. He had to carry through with this; if only to get rid of the potential distraction she posed if he left her alive. He had a mission to carry out and he refused to let anything get in the way of that.

Unfortunately, however, he hadn't taken into account his physical condition in the calculation of his plan. He hadn't been waiting long before he found his eyes were beginning to slip shut. After a momentary struggle he gave up trying to fight it and he drifted out of consciousness into a sound sleep.

~~~~~***~~~~~

The rain tapping against the window was the only sound that could be heard. William's arm was around the shoulders of the blond girl cuddled next to him on the couch.

"Have you warmed up yet?" His deep voice was amused.

"If I say yes will you leave?" Calandra inquired, peering up at him through her eyelashes.

"Do you want me to?" He raised an eyebrow.

"No," she grinned sheepishly. He smiled.

"Then I'll stay right here until you've had enough of me," his tone was dry. She gazed up at him with a solemn expression.

"I could never have enough of you," she told him earnestly. And then , as she considered the implications of what she'd just said, her eyes widened and her cheeks reddened. "Um…ok that maybe didn't come out right," she admitted, a little flustered. A laugh escaped William's lips.

"My dear Calandra, if I didn't know better I'd say you were falling for me," his tone was gently teasing. The blonde rolled her eyes.

"Honestly Will, it doesn't suit you pretending to be dense," her tone was a little miffed. He smiled knowingly, lowering her head to rest his forehead against hers.

"What would you rather me do?" His voice was softly suggestive. Her eyes widened a little and her cheeks colored further. She appeared to consider his question a moment. Then her gaze filled with mischief.

"Close your eyes," she whispered, "And don't move." He raised an eyebrow. "Just do it!" She insisted. He smiled but obeyed. A moment later he felt her lips press against his. He smiled into her kiss. And then without warning he pushed her back against the pillows at the end of the couch, following her lips down as he pinned her there. She broke the kiss to let out a laugh.

"William! I told you not to move," she scolded with a grin.

"Yes, but it's more fun to misbehave," he replied with a smirk. She giggled but was silenced as he kissed her again. After a moment she pulled back slightly with a rueful expression.

"I hate to wreck the mood, but if my father finds us like this he'll hit the roof," she pointed out. William let out a sigh.

"I suppose you're right. I've already taken heat from my mother today. I'd rather not get it from your father as well," his tone was resigned. He sat up slowly, allowing her to sit up as well. She leaned against him once more with a smile.

"You should visit more often," she told him.

"You know, I think you're right," he replied, glancing down at the top of her head. Everything always felt so right when he was with her…

~~~~~***~~~~~

When Envy rose to consciousness again he thought he was still dreaming. He was lying on a soft mattress, his head cradled by feather pillows and the blankets surrounding him had a soft, floral scent. He slowly opened his eyes. Sun was streaming in the window, filling the small bedroom with its golden rays. The walls were a shade of soft yellow, and an old mahogany dresser, writing desk and nightstand gave the room a quaint feel. As pleasant as his surroundings were, his physical condition was another thing entirely. His whole body was aching, and despite the blankets piled around him, he was shivering. He was far too tired to even move. A wave of frustration crashed over him. This humiliating weakness was drawing on far longer than he was comfortable with.

The sound of the door opening drew his attention. His eyes widened as his gaze fell on the person who entered. It was the same girl from his dream. But then he quickly realized that couldn't be the case. Calandra was centuries in his past. The young woman's features were nearly identical to those of his former sweetheart, but now a simple brown dress draped over her curves and her flaxen curls were pulled back from her face in a practical manner, giving her a slightly older appearance. On second thought, perhaps she really was older. There was a difference in her demeanor, though he couldn't quite lay a finger on what it was. She was carrying a basin of water which she set on the small nightstand by his bed. Her gaze finally moved to rest on him and she blinked in surprise.

"Oh, you're awake!" she exclaimed softly. "How are you feeling?" Envy frowned, her gentle tone coming across to him as a form of condescension.

"Where am I?" He rasped.

"In my bed," she replied. "You've been unconscious for three days." He blinked. He'd been asleep for three days and yet he still felt this weak? His frown deepened.

"Where have you been sleeping?" He demanded suspiciously. He hadn't seen any other beds in the house other than this one when he'd looked through it.

"On the couch," she replied, tone indicating she considered this perfectly normal. His eyebrows rose.

"Why?"

"Well, you need the bed more than I do. You're sick," she appeared faintly amused. Envy stared at her. How on earth had he wound up in this situation? Having this girl take him in willingly and personally look after him was the absolute last thing he'd wanted.

"I was planning to kill you," he informed her in a hard tone. He studied her expression intently, awaiting some sign of distress or fear. Even under the weight of his unnerving, amethyst gaze, she did not respond they way he'd been hoping. Her expression grew more sober and a certain wariness flickered behind her eyes, but she didn't appear at all taken aback.

"I thought as much," she murmured, turning back to the basin she'd set down and reaching in to pull a face cloth out of the water. Envy's eyes widened. She'd suspected that he'd intended to kill her, and yet she'd still given up her own bed for him and was looking after him? What was wrong with this woman?

"What tipped you off?" He demanded. She wrung out the small towel and turned back towards him.

"The knife in your hand when I found you," she replied simply. It was difficult to tell what was going through her mind beneath her impassive expression, but she seemed far too calm for his liking. He felt a thrill of alarm as she reached towards him.

"Don't touch me!" He snarled, wanting to recoil from her but finding himself too weak to do so. To top it off, his voice came out much less intimidating than he'd intended thanks to the hoarseness of his voice. She ignored him completely, brushing his spiky bangs away from his forehead and resting the cool, damp cloth across it. Anger began to simmer in his veins over being ignored. He glared venomously at her. She frowned slightly as she met his gaze.

"I'm sorry to upset you, but you need looking after right now," she told him softly, a troubled look in her eyes.

"When I said I intended to kill you, I wasn't joking around," he growled. A sigh escaped her lips and her gaze dropped to the bed sheets.

"I know," was the only response he received. He felt a wash of furious frustration.

"Then why are you helping me?!" He hissed, indignation burning in his gaze. Her expression grew thoughtful and she turned back towards the basin, readjusting its position on the nightstand absentmindedly as she considered her response.

"If I handed you over to someone else for looking after then you'd wind up dead. My people aren't very tolerant of those outside the norms of society. And just because you want to hurt me doesn't mean I can stand by and watch you suffer," she told him finally. She met his gaze again. Little had changed in her expression, but he somehow felt as though she were smiling at him with her eyes. He stared at her, completely at a loss for words. He thought he'd succeeded in cowing her, but she appeared perfectly serene. What she was saying was utterly absurd. She couldn't seriously mean it. He opened his mouth to make an objection, but she paid him no heed. Instead she leaned over and pulled the blankets up over him further. As she did so, a necklace slipped out of the front of her dress. The metal pendant glinted in the sunlight, catching his eye. It was in the shape of a cross, which was a symbol he recognized. He felt a wash of revulsion which he couldn't quite explain, and his lips twisted in an expression of contempt.

"Oh I see. You're religious. Suddenly it all makes sense," he scoffed. "If you're helping me out of some misguided notion that it'll get you brownie points with your god, then don't bother. I'm not someone he'd be keen on you saving." His tone was harsh. She raised her eyebrows at him, appearing a little perplexed.

"I'm helping you because I want to help you," she replied. Much to his frustration she didn't seem at all vexed by his deriding tone. "Now try to get some more rest." She turned to leave but he mustered the strength to reach out and grab her wrist, squeezing it uncomfortably tight. She glanced back at him in surprise.

"I'm still going to kill you, you know," he warned. The dark look in his eyes was more than enough evidence that he meant what he was saying. She regarded him with an unreadable expression for a moment. Then without a word she pulled out of his grasp and left the room.


	3. Chapter 3

For the rest of the day he slipped in and out of uneasy dreams. None of them were as vivid as the flashbacks he'd been having, but that didn't mean he'd escaped the young woman from his past. Now she was haunting his waking hours.

"Go away," he spat. She stood at the side of his bed, a bowl of soup in her hand that she had just offered to spoon feed him. A frown of concern creased her brow.

"You need to eat something if you want to recover your strength," she pointed out. He narrowed his eyes loathingly.

"You stupid wench! I don't want your help." His tone was caustic. A resigned sigh escaped her lips. Over the course of the morning he'd made a point of insulting her colorfully each time she'd attempted to strike up a conversation or make him more comfortable. Her appearance and behavior unnerved him to such a degree that he was driven to respond in the only way he knew how: by lashing out. Since he was unable to lay hands on her in his weakened state, he'd chosen to utilize the weapon of words, which he happened to be quite skilled with after spending centuries with his heartless mother. But no matter what harsh, derogatory comments he directed her way, her placid kindness towards him didn't change. The most he'd gotten out of her in the way of a reaction was an occasional flinch, or a wilted look. Aside from that, she didn't appear concerned by his outright hostility. This only served to bewilder him, and he despised her for it.

As evening closed in it found him glaring up at the ceiling. The soft sound of singing could be heard from another part of the house where the woman was occupied with something. He couldn't make out the words, but the sweet melody grated on his nerves. He couldn't stand her. He'd never felt so humiliated in all of his unnaturally long life and the blame rested entirely on her shoulders. He could hardly wait until his limbs regained their strength so he could wring her slender neck. He would make her regret the day she had decided to take him in. He ground his teeth in frustration and shut his eyes, wishing he could block out the sound of her voice. It was too much of an effort to reach up and cover his ears.

Eventually the sound of it grew louder as she made her way down the hall to check on him. The words shifted to a soft hum as she entered his room.

"Would you shut up?" He growled waspishly as she came to a stop by his bed. Her eyebrows rose, but much to his consternation, the faintest of smiles tugged at her lips.

"You're really quite the charmer, you know that?" She murmured. The irony of her words betrayed a dry amusement hidden beneath the meekness of her expression. She walked around the bed to pull the window drapes shut. "Try and get some more sleep. I hope you feel a bit better in the morning." She said, glancing down at him solemly. As usual, the glare he leveled at her in return had no apparent effect. Without further comment, she turned and left the room, shutting the door behind her. He stared after her incredulously. What was _with_ her? A growl of exasperation escaped his lips and he shut his eyes. Despite his disgruntlement, a moment later sleep claimed him.

Several days passed in a similar manner. He was eventually forced by necessity to consent to being spoon fed, which only fueled his steadily growing hatred of the young woman. Slowly but surely he began to gain strength. On the third day he was finally able to sit up and, much to his relief, feed himself. He still lacked the strength to make an effort at standing,but he suspected he'd be able to manage it by the next day. He could hardly wait. Just a little while longer and he'd be able to rid himself of his little pest of a caretaker. He hadn't had anymore flashbacks since the last one, and the odd emotions attached to her appearance were being worn away by sheer annoyance. He felt quite sure that at this point he'd be able to kill her without hesitation, familiar face or not.

"I have to go into town after work tomorrow morning so I might not be here when you wake up. I should be back by lunchtime at the latest," she informed him that evening. He didn't respond, but he felt a wash of satisfaction. This was perfect. He could lie in wait the next morning and get rid of her as soon as she returned. That night he fell asleep with a smile of anticipation on his face.

~~~~~***~~~~~

William was leaning over an old text. His brow was furrowed and a look of intense concentration filled his golden eyes. He was right in the middle of a critical breakthrough in his research. He was so close he could taste it. The months of hard work were finally coming to fruition. He couldn't afford any distractions now.

Little did he know that his childhood friend was galloping towards the city at that very moment. Tears were staining her cheeks and her face was pinched in distress. She had just received news which had the potential to shatter all of her dreams permanently: her father was giving her hand in marriage to a man she didn't even know.

She raced into the city, navigating through the streets in a frighteningly reckless manner. Ordinarily she would deeply disapprove of such a display of careless riding, but right now she was far too upset to care. When she reached the home of her longtime friend, she rode around back and swiftly dismounted, tying her puffing, sweat-stained steed to the hitching post. Upon receiving no answer at the door, she let herself in. She knew exactly where he would be. Without hesitation she headed down the stairs into the basement where William and his father conducted their research.

"Will?" she called. She wasn't terribly surprised when she received no answer. Making her way down the cool, musty smelling hall, she came to a stop in the doorway of the study where William was bent over an old book. A candle on the desk provided the level of illumination necessary for reading in the otherwise dimly lit room. "William," she spoke up.

"Not now, Callie," his tone was distracted and he didn't even bother to glance at her.

"Will, please. I need to talk to you," she pleaded.

"Can't it wait?" His tone was aggravated as he finally looked up at her. It wasn't until he saw the look on her face that he realized something was wrong. The young woman swallowed hard, blinking back the tears which had sprung to her eyes anew from his harsh tone.

"Never mind," she whispered, turning and fleeing the room.

"Callie, wait!" William called in alarm, rising to his feet and rushing after her. Unfortunately she'd already gotten a head start on him. He was halfway up the steps when he heard the front door slam from her departure. He came to a stop, a little stunned. Part of him wanted to go after the young woman and find out what on earth had upset her. But the more logical part of him argued that he'd never be able to catch up with her if she was on horseback. It made more sense to wait for her to return. He was sure she would. And in the meantime he could get that project finished. Against his better judgement, he made a decision which he would regret for the rest of his life: he turned around and headed back down the stairs into the study.

Outside, Calandra leaned against the wall, waiting and hoping desperately that he would come after her. Surely she meant more to him than his alchemy. She had thought at the very least he would follow her. But as the seconds passed into minutes, her heart sank even lower. He wasn't coming. The tears she'd been fighting to hold back spilled down her cheeks.

"Oh, William," she whispered brokenly.

~~~~~***~~~~~

The next day, William was still in the study. His face was resting on the book he'd been hunched over, having fallen asleep in his chair. Finally he stirred and raised his head, grimacing as his neck and back complained vehemently over the position he'd spent the night in. He rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the grogginess. What time was it? Judging by the grumbling of his stomach, he'd missed a meal or two. He rose stiffly to his feet, deciding he might as well head up and find something to eat before he attempted to get anymore work done.

He made his way out of the room and down the hall, plodding up the basement steps. On the ground floor, morning sunlight was shining in through the windows of his family home. He made his way into the kitchen, glancing around for some readily accessible food. Upon finding none, he grabbed the pitcher of water on the counter and poured some into a glass, taking a satisfying swallow.

"William," the cool voice from the doorway made him grimace.

"What do you want, mother?" He asked resignedly. Upon turning to face her, he was a little surprised at her expression. She appeared unusually subdued.

"Did Calandra come to visit you yesterday?" She asked. William blinked in surprise. He'd completely forgotten about the blond girl.

"Yes. She was upset about something, but I never found out what it was. Is she ok?" He asked. His mother's expression was concerning him. There was silence for a moment. She appeared reluctant to respond. "Did something happen?" William demanded, a frown creasing his brow.

"She's dead," his mother replied finally, her words painfully blunt. William stared at her. The information wasn't processing. "There was an accident. She must have fallen from her horse on the way home from seeing you. Nobody knows what caused it, especially considering how skilled a rider she was. But accidents happen to the best of us, I suppose. Her neck was broken when they found her." As the words fell from her lips, the ground dropped out from under William. The glass in his hand slipped from his fingers and hit the floor, shattering into countless, tiny fragments. A moment later his heart followed suit.

Everything blurred, the thoughts and tearstained memories shifting and swirling through the vivid dream: the funeral, family members and friends; the speeches, sermon and reception; the coffin lowered into the cold earth while the crisp autumn wind whispered through the fallen leaves around them. She had always loved this time of year. How many rides had they gone on, racing, laughing, discussing their dreams and plans? The earth hitting the wooden box in a steady rhythm seemed deafening in the heavy silence resting over the crowd of onlookers. She had been known and loved by many people. But as the hours passed and twilight closed in, he was left standing alone.

He fell to his knees in the grass at the foot of the freshly filled in grave. The gravestone stood before him, the letters carved into the rock staring back at him. The date of death immediately following the date of birth was like a mind numbing accusation. There was something so inescapably permanent about seeing his closest friend's name written in stone. She had passed forever beyond his reach, and it was impossible to avoid the fact that he had caused this; he and his singleminded obsession with alchemy. If he had just gone after her when she'd come to see him, this never would have happened.

"Calandra...I am so sorry," his voice broke. He no longer made any attempt to hide the tears which rose up in his golden eyes and spilled over, rolling one by one down his cheeks. The reality was still sinking in, but the further it sank, the further his heart was crushed. "This is my fault. I should have stopped you. I should have gone after you..." his shoulders shook with a silent sob. "You've always been there for me. Always. But I...I was never there for you when I should have been. There was always something else that was more important...And now you're gone..." he swallowed hard. "I'm such a fool," the words came out through gritted teeth, and then his voice gave way to tears. There were so many things that had been left unsaid. He'd never told her how much she'd meant to him. He'd never told her that he loved her. It was a mutually shared feeling that had never needed to be spoken. Perhaps it should have been. Maybe that would have changed things. But now...now it was too late.

~~~~~***~~~~~

Envy's eyes snapped open and he gasped in a breath. His head spun from the potency of the dream, the emotions it had dragged up still woven through his consciousness in a painful tangle. His heart ached as if something had bruised it. He was shocked to feel wetness on his cheeks. He reached up and wiped his eyes before staring at the moisture left on his hands in disbelief. What...the hell...? In all the years he'd been alive never once had he shed tears. He hadn't even realized he had tear-ducts. He stared up at the ceiling feeling thoroughly dazed. What was this feeling? Was it grief? But there was a bitter sharpness to it that made him feel queasy. Could it be guilt? He couldn't help but marvel over the intensity of the emotions swirling inside his chest. This was just absurd. Why was he reacting this way? He simply didn't understand.

Unable to make sense of his inner turmoil, he directed his attention outward to his external environment. Late morning light was streaming in the window. That woman would likely be home soon. What was her name anyway? He'd never bothered to ask. He somehow doubted it was Calandra. Dismissing the thought from his mind, he propped himself up on his elbows, testing out how his muscles felt. His body still felt fatigued, but he found he felt quite a bit stronger than he had the day before. There was little doubt that he could stand now.

He lay in silence for a moment, unsure of what his next course of action should be. Everything had seemed so clear cut the night before, but now things were muddled. As uncomfortable as it was to admit, he somehow doubted he would be able to kill that woman in the immediate future. After that dream he'd lost all taste for it. He suspected it would only make this pain in his chest worse. He was Envy, the first homunculus. As far as he was concerned his heart had died a long time ago, and any capacity for love or attachment had died with it. But _something_ inside him was hurting. If it wasn't his heart then he wasn't sure what it could be. If it was a physical injury then his powers would have healed it by now. Regardless, it was decidedly uncomfortable. If he didn't kill that woman then what was he going to do? Would he be able to stand sticking around this place if she was still alive? Where else could he go?

With a heavy sigh, he slowly pushed himself into an upright position. He was relieved to find that, unlike before, he was able to sit up without feeling a wash of dizziness. Slowly and carefully he slid each leg out of the bed so he was sitting on the edge, feet resting on the floor. His outfit was wrinkled and his palm-tree-like hair was ruffled from spending several days in bed. He blinked. All this time he'd been sleeping in that woman's bed while she slept out on the couch. She was certainly a queer one. He still couldn't figure out what had possessed her to willingly take him into her home. She'd somehow managed to get him from the front yard to the couch the first time he'd passed out, and then from the living room into her bed the second time. He did have a lean build, but he wasn't a featherweight either. Perhaps she was stronger than she looked. Even so... she lived alone. For her to take in a stranger, no questions asked, put her in a very vulnerable position. Either she was utterly naive, or idiotically reckless. Or both.

Slowly he rose to his feet. When he felt certain he would be able to walk without collapsing, he carefully crossed the room and opened the door. Stepping out into the hall, he paused, listening for any sound of the young woman moving around the house. The silence which greeted him confirmed her absence. Keeping one hand on the wall for support, he made his way down the hall into the living room. There was a window overlooking the front lawn, but the curtains were drawn. He approached it and pushed back the drapes, allowing the light to spill in. He'd be able to see her coming this way.

Turning away from the window, something across the room caught his eye. There was a small fireplace set in the wall, and on the mantel above it were several pictures. Oddly enough, they were all turned face down in a way that suggested the positioning had been deliberate. He couldn't help but feel curious. What was it that had made her no longer wish to see them? He stepped away from the window and walked past the couch to stand in front of the hearth. He reached up and picked up one of the frames, turning it over to look at. As soon as he saw the picture behind the glass, his breath caught in his throat and he froze in place, eyes wide with shock. The young woman from his flashbacks, or rather, the woman who had been taking care of him, was sitting on a bench, a joyful expression on her face as she stared up at the man seated next to her. His arm was resting around her shoulders and his expression was soft as he returned her gaze. He was a broad shouldered young man with a strong jawline. His blond hair was swept back from his face, falling to his shoulders, and his eye color was a most unusual shade, that of melted gold. He was staring down at... himself.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been standing there when he heard the sound of the front door opening. It shook him from his daze enough that he was able to tear his gaze from the photo and glance across the room. The young woman stood in the doorway, eyes wide in a startled expression which swiftly shifted to wariness. There was a bag of what he presumed were groceries in one of her hands. Her typical brown dress had been exchanged for one of soft green. A dark colored sash about her waist matched the ribbon holding her long curls back from her face as they tumbled over her shoulders. Several moments passed in silence as they simply stared at each other. He half expected her to drop the bag and run, but she didn't. When it became clear he wasn't going to move, she took a deep breath, appearing to gather herself together. Then she stepped inside and slowly turned to shut the door behind her.

"Who is the man in this picture?" The words were out of Envy's lips before he could think better of it. When she turned back towards him, her expression had dropped noticeably and her aura became subdued.

"He was my husband," she replied softly. Envy blinked, taken aback. She seemed a little young to have been married. But when he thought about it, there wasn't much else the man could be other than a husband or lover. The look shared between the couple in the picture wasn't one which would typically pass between a brother and sister. Then something occurred to him.

" _Was?_ " His tone was sharp.

"He died," she replied, an empty look in her eyes. Envy stared at her blankly. He was having a hard time wrapping his mind around this discovery. This woman...had been married to his look-alike in this world. And now here she was taking care of him with no idea that in a strange way he was the same man she had lost... Well...ok, maybe that wasn't quite accurate. He certainly wasn't William anymore. But years ago...many years ago...William had been in love with this woman's look-alike in his own world. The entire situation was absurd to the point of hilarity, but he somehow didn't feel like laughing. He wasn't sure how he felt. Seeing that he wasn't going to respond, the woman turned away and headed into the kitchen. Envy stared after her for a moment, swiftly pondering his next course of action. Should he leave, or should he stay? If he did leave, where would he go? He hadn't the slightest idea where Hohenheim was and he was still far weaker than he felt comfortable with. Since he found himself unable to settle on a course of action, he lighted on a different idea. He would simply let the young woman decide for him. He set the picture back on the mantel and turned to follow after her.

He found her setting the bag of groceries on the kitchen counter. Upon hearing his approach she grew very still, though she didn't turn to face him. He came to a stop behind her, uncomfortably close. He could tell by the tension in her shoulders that she was afraid. That suited him just fine, but he didn't want to risk her bolting. He reached out and rested his hands on the counter on either side of her, trapping her there. She visibly stiffened, but didn't move.

"Turn around," he ordered. He saw her swallow nervously, but after a moment she obeyed, leaning back against the counter to put some space between their faces. She didn't appear as panicked as he'd been expecting, but her grey eyes were wide with unease. He stared her down, taking a moment to enjoy the fear in her expression and body language. She deserved far worse than this for the humiliation of the last several days, but for the moment this would have to suffice. He couldn't bring himself to lay hands on her with the pain from the dream still so fresh in his mind. Just staring at her face, so close to his own, was having an interesting effect on his already tangled emotions,

"If you're going to kill me, please just get it over with," she spoke up finally. Despite the look in her eyes, her voice was impressively calm.

"I'm going to give you a choice," he informed her. "You can tell me to leave, or you can allow me to stay. If I leave, I wont come back. But if I stay, I make no promise that you wont wind up dead at some point." The edge to his words was like a sharpened blade. A frown creased her brow.

"Are you saying you aren't planning on killing me right this second?" She asked. His hands clenched into fists on the counter. This was unbelievably frustrating. He _should_ have killed her days ago. Now all he could see when he thought about killing her was her gravestone in front of him as he knelt in the grass, heart shattered inside him. Back then he would have given anything to have her back. And now a woman with the same face and a similarly sweet disposition was standing right in front of him; a woman that had loved another version of himself. But it was far too late now for any of that to matter. All he knew was that he just couldn't bring himself to kill her.

"Not at the moment," he replied finally. There was a brief silence as the woman bit her lip, clearly thinking over how to respond. He could sense the emotions swirling behind her eyes; the fear, uncertainty and doubt. Any moment now she would ask him to leave. Finally she spoke up.

"Then can you please move?" She asked. "I need to make us lunch." The uneasiness of her aura had disappated. He stared at her incredulously. Did this woman have no sense of self preservation?

"Make your choice first," he demanded, trying to crush his bewilderment under a mask of forcefulness. She let out a soft sigh.

"I have no intention of kicking you out," she replied. "You aren't in any condition to be wandering around the countryside yet. Stay as long as you need to."

"What is wrong with you?" He asked, thoroughly mystified by her responses to him. She raised her eyebrows, a perplexed look in her eyes.

"I didn't think anything was wrong with me. But, now that you mention it, I'm awfully hungry. I'm sure you are as well. And you really shouldn't be on your feet yet. You're going to exhaust yourself," she informed him in a gently chiding tone. He stared at her, hardly able to comprehend what he was hearing. Was it seriously possible for a person to be so...so...? He couldn't even find a word to describe it. She was nuts. He released the counter and stepped away from her, slowly shaking his head. Without further ado she turned back to her bag of groceries and began to bustle around the kitchen, putting them away and pulling other things out as she set about preparing lunch.

With a feeling of bewilderment he sank down into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. Now that he thought about it, he really was starving. Perhaps keeping her around wouldn't be such a bad thing if she'd cook for him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd attempted to prepare a meal. He'd never been very interested in meal preparation. Not requiring nourishment of that sort had likely had something to do with that. As he watched her work, something occurred to him.

"You haven't told me your name," he spoke up.

"You haven't told me yours," she replied. He felt a wash of annoyance at her response. "My name is Leah," she added, glancing back at him over her shoulder. Envy blinked. Leah, huh? Well that was going to take some getting used to after thinking of her as Calandra. "Are you going to tell me your name?" She inquired as she re-focused her attention on what she was making.

"Aren't you a little young to be a widow?" He asked, ignoring her question. She stopped what she was doing and turned to stare at him. The expression on her face was one which he had trouble putting a name to. It seemed like something close to incredulity.

"Did you seriously just ask me that?" Her tone wasn't disagreeable, but there was a note of disquiet in it. He stared at her blankly, not really sure what she was getting at. Then it dawned on him that his question sounded incredibly insensitive. Not that he cared, but it wasn't quite what he'd meant. He rolled his eyes.

"I meant, aren't you young to have been married in the first place?"

"I'm 19," she replied. "We'd only been married for six months, but we'd known each other since we were children," she explained, resuming work on lunch.

"So you live here alone?" His tone was skeptical. She nodded.

"We moved here just after we got married, so I don't have any family living nearby."

"How do you support yourself?"

"I work a stable down the road," she replied. At this, he felt an inexplicable prick of unease.

"So you ride." It was a statement, not a question.

"No, I just work there. I can't afford a horse of my own," her tone was practical. His unease promptly dissipated. This only served to concern him further, but for a different reason. There was no reason at all for him to be worried about this girl's safety. Clearly his dreams had rattled him. There was silence for several minutes as she finished up what she was preparing. Then she crossed the room to the table carrying two plates, each with a sandwich and some sliced fruit. She set them down before stepping back to grab two glasses and a pitcher of water.

"So," she said as she sat down in the chair across from him. "What caused this sudden interest in my life? You've been here four days now and haven't spoken a civil word to me for almost the entire time." She eyed him speculatively.

"What's it to you?" His tone abruptly grew waspish. She blinked. Then she shrugged, picked up her sandwich and began to eat. After a moment it became clear she had no intention of trying to carry on a fruitless conversation with him. His gaze dropped to his own plate of food, a scowl on his face. It was really starting to rankle him that he couldn't provoke any sort of satisfying reaction out of her. He'd been nothing but nasty to her and she continued to be patiently kind to him. It was utterly infuriating! He bit into his sandwich with more force than necessary, unable to take his anger out on anything but his food.

When she finished her meal, she rose and carried her plate back to the sink.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" She inquired, turning back to him.

"Shut up and leave me alone," he muttered sullenly. There was a momentary silence as she stared at him. Once again he had difficulty reading her expression.

"If there's anything you need, just ask. I'll be down the hall doing laundry," she informed him quietly. Then she turned and left the room, beginning to hum softly to herself as she strode down the hall. Envy stared after her, utterly bewildered. What was _wrong_ with her? He shook his head slowly. Finally his attention returned to finishing his meal.

Despite his initial hunger, he found his appetite had all but vanished once he was halfway through the sandwich. That woman's attitude had left him feeling sick to his stomach, and he wasn't sure why. Her behaviour shouldn't have mattered one way or the other. He would simply use her and move on. With any luck he'd work up the nerve to kill her before he did the latter. Still... There was a disquiet within him he didn't know how to address. He couldn't just leave. Fatigue was already claiming him after the slight amount of exercise he'd gotten that morning. On top of which, he had nowhere to go as of yet. The object of his search could be anywhere in this new world for all he knew.

Feeling thoroughly disgruntled, he rose to his feet and wandered out of the kitchen. He stopped out in the living room, glancing around uncertainly. He didn't know what to do with himself. The soft sound of singing could be heard down the hall. It was infuriatingly hard to ignore. What right did this woman have to be so content? She was recently widowed at the age of 19 and she lived alone, away from the comfort or support of family. On top of which, he done nothing but tear her down and throw her kindness back in her face since he'd woken up four days ago. How could she behave like this? It confused the hell out of him.

He glanced over at the fireplace mantle where all of the pictures, save the one which he had picked up, remained face down. Driven by the same prick of curiosity as before, he crossed the room and began to examine each of them one by one. Some of the pictures were of groups of individuals and Leah wasn't in all of them. But her husband was. Interesting. Obviously the pictures had meant something to her, but judging by the dust gathered on the backs of the frames, she hadn't been able to stand the sight of them for a while now. What had her relationship with her husband been like? Not that it really mattered, but he was bored. Pestering her about the man had the potential to actually provoke a reaction out of her.

Specifically leaving the pictures all standing properly, partly to rankle his host and partly for a reason he couldn't quite explain, he turned and headed down the hall in the direction of the singing. He came to a stop in the doorway of a small, sunlit room. Leah stood folding clothing at a table. She glanced up questioningly, the soft singing, much to his relief, coming to a stop.

"Why were the pictures on the mantle turned face down?" He demanded. There was an unfriendly edge to his tone. The idea of being civil with her annoyed him. As usual, she didn't respond to his thinly veiled hostility. The same somber expression from earlier passed over her features.

"Some memories are too painful to dwell on," she replied softly.

"Was your relationship not a pleasant one?" Envy asked, curious in spite of himself. If she found his inexplicable interest in her deceased husband odd, she didn't show it.

"On the contrary, it was wonderful. He was a good man. Though I must say he had his quirks," the sadness in her expression dissipated, replaced by a slight smile as she resumed folding the pile of laundry. Envy leaned against the doorframe.

"Quirks?" He asked.

"I've never known anyone who could become so incredibly focused on a single thing like he could. He was single-minded to the point of obsession. He was never lukewarm about anything, but he was passionate about things because he truly cared," she replied, a thoughtfully distant look on her face. Then a soft chuckle escaped her lips. "I think most people were intimidated by him. He did have a temper, although it was never roused without provocation. He was much more sensitive underneath his strong, confident shell than anyone else realized. And he always hated being told what to do," she smirked. Then she blinked, seeming to snap out of her flashback. "I'm sorry for rambling. I'm sure it's boring for you," she glanced him apologetically. Envy simply stared at her. She picked up the pile of newly folded clothes and crossed the room to the door. She was forced to come to a stop in front of him since he was blocking the way out.

"Would you mind moving?" She asked. Her tone was that of a hopeful request rather than a demand. He simply continued to stare at her. Though it didn't show on the outside, he was reeling from her casual description. His motives stemmed from hatred rather than goodwill, but she had just given an unsettlingly accurate description of himself. The affectionate tone in her voice made him want to recoil even though he knew her emotions were only directed at her late husband. Still, in a very indirect way she _was_ talking about himself. The thought sickened him. The revulsion seemed perfectly natural to him, but there was an unfamiliar undercurrent to it that concerned him. He didn't want to examine it too closely for fear of what it might be.

After a moment he realized she was still standing there, waiting patiently for him to move. For a moment he wasn't sure what to do. Finally he stepped back into the hall to let her past. Since at the moment he wanted nothing more than to get away from her, it made sense to acquiesce to her request. As he watched her walk away down the hall, he swallowed. The feeling of bewilderment had returned with a vengeance. What was wrong with him?


	4. Chapter 4

Several days passed. Envy continued to grow stronger, but it was a frustratingly slow process. In his impatience to recover he pushed himself as much as possible and fell into relapses of weakness and fever. It was a discouraging feeling of one step forward, two steps back. As much as he'd been trying to ignore it, a nagging fear was growing in the back of his mind. Would using his powers always end this way on this side of the gate? He'd prided himself on being superior to humans because of his special abilities, and he'd taken them for granted. The possibility of losing that which made him unique wasn't something he cared to consider.

His attitude towards Leah remained one of harsh contempt. He told himself that he simply couldn't stand her, and he did his best to make the sentiment obvious. Even so, her treatment of him remained the same. His inability to hurt her with words drove him mad. Never had he met someone so impervious to his malice. At least... that was how she appeared to him. And as time passed he found that keeping up a constant verbal assault on her was more effort than it was worth. Hatred really was quite an exhausting emotion, and while her gentle humility repulsed him, it wasn't as threatening as he had first found it to be.

One night he awoke inexplicably and found it difficult to drift back to sleep. He could hear the song of the crickets outside the partly open window, and the cool night air trickling in filled the room with its sharp, green scent. As he rolled over onto his side, a sound reached his ear. It was a soft sound which at first he didn't recognize. He hadn't heard it in as long as he'd been staying here. His eyes flickered open in surprise as he realized it was the sound of crying. He lay for a moment listening to it. It was coming from the living room where Leah slept. Driven by a curious compulsion he couldn't quite explain, he pushed back the covers and slid out of bed. Crossing the room, he opened the door and stepped out, making his way silently down the hall. He came to a stop in the door of the living room. It was dark, but the dim outlines of the furniture were visible in the faint moonlight filtering through the blinds. From what he could see, Leah appeared to be sitting on the couch with her face buried in her hands. Despite the quiet sobs wracking her frame, she seemed to be doing her best not to make noise. He was a little surprised he'd heard her in the first place.

Feeling the need to make his presence known but finding he wasn't sure what to say, he reached over and flipped on the light switch. Leah flinched in surprise as light flooded the room. She looked up at him through her tears, clearly startled to see him standing there. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying, her cheeks blotchy and tearstained. There was an awkward silence as they stared at each other. Then, becoming abruptly self conscious, she hastily wiped the tears from her face.

"Do you need something?" She asked hoarsely.

"Why are you crying?" Envy demanded, staring at her with a strange sort of fascination. She wavered a moment at his question, then she looked away, her gaze falling to the floor.

"It's nothing," she mumbled. His eyes narrowed.

"Don't give me that!" He snapped. "You were crying for a reason. Now spit it out!" His attempts to drive her to tears thus far had been so entirely unsuccessful that he'd been starting to think she was unable to feel negative emotions. He'd thought it would be satisfying somehow to see her in such a state, but instead he felt vaguely uncomfortable. There was an unfamiliar ache in his chest he didn't quite recognize.

"I'm selfish, you know," she said finally. At this response Envy's jaw dropped slightly, utterly dumbfounded. He could think of a number of unflattering words with which he could label the young woman, but 'selfish' wouldn't have been his first choice.

"You are?" His tone was dubious. A resigned sigh escaped her lips and she glanced at him.

"When I took you in it wasn't just because I wanted to help you... I was lonely," she replied. At this admission his eyebrows rose.

"If you wanted pleasant company, you picked the wrong guy," he informed her curtly. She shook her head.

"I didn't want company. I wanted a distraction," she murmured, gaze falling to the floor again.

"A distraction from what?" He demanded. She drew in a shaky breath and let it out slowly, appearing to steady herself.

"From him," she whispered. At Envy's puzzled silence she glanced pointedly at the mantle above the fireplace. The pictures there all remained standing up, just the way he'd left them several days ago. The young man in the photographs stared back at the two of them. "I'm trying so hard to move on. I need to get past it... He's in a better place, I was blessed to have him while he was here, and I can't ask for more than that," her voice broke. "But I'm weak, and it just hurts so much sometimes…"she trailed off in a shaky whisper, shutting her eyes as several more tears rolled down her cheeks. 

Envy's eyes widened.. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but it hadn't been that. A dizzying wave of emotion crashed over him. Suddenly it was hard to think straight. The pain from his dream had returned to his chest in full force. For a split second he forgot where he was; forgot _who_ he was. In that instant he was William again, and he was staring at Calandra. The sight of her tears pierced through him like a dagger.

"Calandra, I…" The words fell from his lips without thought, seeming to have formed themselves of their own accord. Then the moment shattered, leaving him breathless. His jaw snapped shut and he felt the colour drain from his face in horror. He had _not_ just said that… 

A frown of puzzlement creased Leah's brow.

"Calandra? Who is…?" Before she could finish her question he turned on his heel and walked swiftly back down the hall.

Bursting into the bedroom, he slammed the door shut behind him. He rested his face in his hands for a moment, trembling from a sick feeling that it seized hold of him. It was fear. The darkness of the room seems press in on him. He fumbled for the light switch on the wall and flicked it on. His breath was coming faster than normal. He turned to pace the length of the room and back, raising a hand to cover his eyes. What was he going to do? He couldn't crush the panic that had gripped him. It was one thing to dream, but that potent flash of his old self had been far more than a dream. For the briefest of moments it was like his past self had pushed to the forefront of his consciousness and… taken over him. What was he supposed to do? He couldn't allow this to happen! He simply had to kill her. He couldn't afford to wait any longer. He needed to kill her _now_.

_No you don't._

Envy froze in place. Those words in his mind…had not been his. They had come from somewhere else.

_You won't hurt her. You need her._

Envy stared straight ahead, his eyed wide. Now he was hearing voices. He really had lost his mind. The confidence in those words rankled him.

"Don't be absurd. I've never needed anyone in my life!" He snapped at the thin air.

_You've_ always _needed someone. You've been running away from that fact your entire life._

"Shut up!" The panic was plain in his voice now. His heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest. At that moment the door to his room opened. He spun around. "Get out!" He yelled. The young woman standing in the doorway stared at him with raised eyebrows, though she didn't appear particularly fazed by his violent shift in mood. She stepped forward into the room and he jerked backwards, cowering away from her against the wall. "Stay away from me! _Get away!_ " His eyes were wide with panic. Rational thought had vanished from his mind. The odd serenity in Leah's countenance as she watched him utterly terrified him, and he wasn't at all sure why. She stared at him for a moment, her eyes still reddened from crying but showing none of their previous anguish. She seemed puzzled by his uncharacteristic behaviour, but there was a sad kindness in her gaze. She pitied him. Slowly, as if approaching a skittish wild animal, she began to walk towards him. He watched her, frozen in place, breath coming faster and faster the closer she came. He was cornered. There was no way out. Her entire being was the very antithesis of his own. It didn't make any sense. She was just a defenceless human girl. And yet, there was something unearthly about her in that moment that scared him. She seemed to be illuminated from within by a warm light he had never noticed before. Where was coming from? Was he hallucinating?

She came to a stop in front of him. Some distant, still rational part of his mind registered that, despite her apparent calmness, there was a calculating wariness in her eyes, a hesitancy in her movements that betrayed her uncertainly over what she was doing. Then, when he made no move to lash out at her, she slowly reached up and rested her hands on his shoulders. He flinched at her touch, but found himself transfixed by her steady gaze. He couldn't look away from her clear grey eyes. The air between them was thick with tension. She hesitated a moment. Then she closed the remaining distance between them and carefully wrapped her arms around him in a hug. Envy stopped breathing. He stared straight ahead, stunned. After the way he'd treated her over the last week, the girl should have hated him. At the very least, she should have been frightened of him. She didn't know the first thing about him. She certainly couldn't know why he was so disturbed at this moment. Nevertheless, she had set aside her own grief in order to come and offer him comfort. Why was she like this?

They stood like that for a time, a cautious silence resting over them. At length, Envy finally recovered enough to regain the use of his limbs. Raising his hands, he pushed her away from him; although, a little more gently than he'd intended. He stared down at the floor, refusing to look at her expression.

"Leave me alone." The words had lost their ring of anger. His tone was subdued. She watched him for a moment, and then she nodded. Without a word she turned and left the room, shutting the door softly behind her. He stood for a moment unmoving. His head was spinning. He couldn't even begin to process what it just happened. Finally he turned and walked over to the bed, slowly sinking down onto the plush comforter.

He didn't leave the room again for the rest of the night, but neither did he sleep. His mind was far too troubled. In the hours that he sat there staring into space, he attempted to come to some understanding of what had occurred, but without much success. He couldn't explain the actions of that girl. Even more disturbing was the fact that he couldn't explain his reaction to her actions. Why had he allowed her to treat him that way? The changes taking place within him were beyond his comprehension. Before he had woken up on the side of the gate, everything had seemed so clear to him. He'd had one goal in mind, nothing more. But now that goal was getting lost in the confusing tangle of his past and his present. Try as he might, he couldn't make sense of any of it.

When the grey light of early morning finally lit up the room, he rose to his feet, driven by hunger. His appetite had returned with a vengeance over the last two days and his stomach was currently reminding him of that fact. He reluctantly left the room and slowly made his way down the hall. As he entered the living room he came to a halt, his gaze falling upon the young woman on the couch. She was fast asleep, her light golden curls spilling across the single pillow. The thin blanket covering her had slipped down to her waist, revealing that her usual brown dress had been replaced by white nightgown, its lacy straps leaving her shoulders bare. He'd been too rattled the night before to take notice of such things. He stared at her for a moment. It returned to his mind that for the past week she'd been sleeping out on this couch while he'd slept in her bed. She had no reason to treat him this way. Her generosity unnerved him. After some hesitation, he entered the room and sank down into the chair across from her. He couldn't bring himself to wake her up. He sat in silence, watching her as the sun slowly rose above the horizon, spilling its golden warmth across the landscape.

Finally she stirred, her eyelids slowly opening. She turned her head sleepily and unintentionally met his gaze. Abruptly her eyes widened in surprise. She sat up swiftly.

"Oh! I… I didn't know you were up," she stammered. Her state of flustered grogginess what somewhat amusing. "Were you waiting long?" He slowly shook his head. "I… Umm… I suppose you must be hungry," she surmised nervously. He nodded, curiously puzzled by her agitation. She glanced down at herself before glancing at him. Then her gaze darted away nervously. Her cheeks were redder than usual. After a moment's hesitation she seemed to squash whatever emotion she was struggling with. She rose to her feet, letting the blanket fall to the couch, and walked briskly out of the room into the kitchen. Envy stared after her with raised eyebrows. That was easily the most uncomfortable he'd seen her since he'd arrived here, and he hadn't the slightest idea why. All he'd done was watched her sleep... What was so unsettling about that? Shaking his head, he rose to his feet and followed after her.

In the kitchen she made swift work of pulling together breakfast. Before he knew it there was a plate of eggs and bacon sitting in front of him on the table. She poured a glass of orange juice for each of them and sat down across from him. To his relief, she made no inquiries about his unusual behavior the night before. From what he remembered of Calandra, he'd expected to get peppered with questions, but apparently Leah possessed a little more tact than that. The meal was a silent one. When they had both finished, she collected their plates, taking them over and setting them in the sink. Then she turned and leaned back against the counter, watching him. When the silence had stretched out for long enough he finally raised an eyebrow questioningly. He suspected she was puzzled by his unbroken silence. Normally he would have made an unkind comment or two by now.

"Would you like to come to work with me today?" She asked finally, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Envy stared at her blankly. Seeing that she'd taken them off guard, she turned back to the sink and got to work washing the dishes while she awaited his response. Finally he found his voice.

"Why?" He asked. He couldn't fathom why she would make such an offer. She shrugged, remaining focused on the task at hand.

"I just thought you might be getting a bit bored. I work alone, so no one will mind if you come along. It would be a chance for you to get a change of scenery," she replied. There was silence for a moment as he thought over her offer. She was sure an odd young woman; odd enough that he was sure her offer was one of genuine thoughtfulness, and not just some ploy to get out of doing her usual share of work. He had to admit, the thought of spending yet another day sitting around her house was not appealing. "If you do decide to come I'll dig up some clothes for you to wear," she spoke up, interrupting his train of thought. He blinked in surprise and then his eyes narrowed.

"What's wrong with the ones I have on?" He demanded sourly. She glanced back at him over her shoulder. There was a slight smile on her face.

"You've been wearing them for a week now. It wouldn't hurt to wash them. I could run a bath for you as well if you like," she offered. he stared at her.

"Is that your way of saying I smell bad?" He demanded flatly. A peal of laughter escaped her lips, the corners of her eyes crinkling in amusement.

"No, you smell just fine actually. I'm not sure how that's possible after spending most of the week sick in bed and not changing or bathing," her tone was puzzled but amused, "but I suppose you're just special. Even so, a bath might feel nice," she pointed out. He remained silent as she finished with the dishes.

'Special' was certainly one way of describing him. Homunculi didn't typically need to bathe. Not as often as humans did in any case. Their bodies functioned differently. Not to mention he usually changed forms so frequently that neither bathing nor changing clothes had been of much concern to him. In this case though, perhaps bathing wouldn't hurt. He couldn't remember the last time he had remained in the same form for as long as he had recently, and he was now having to consume the same nutrition his humans. Who knew what effect that would have? The idea of starting to smell like a human wasn't terribly appealing.

"Alright," he agreed grudgingly. At his unusually civil response she turned in surprise, apparently taken off guard by his willingness. Then a smile pulled at her lips and something close to triumph lit in her eyes.

"I'll let you know when it's ready," she told him cheerfully, and then strolled out of the room down the hall. He stared after her blankly. All he'd done was agree to let her run him a bath and she'd lit up like a Christmas tree. What in his response had warranted that reaction? A little perturbed, he grabbed a lock of his hair and held it up to his nose to sniff. Upon finding it smelled perfectly normal he felt a prick of relief. Apparently the woman was just behaving as bizarrely as usual.


	5. Chapter 5

Sometime later Envy found himself in a small bathroom. He had just finished wringing the excess water from his hair and was now distastefully eyeing the clean clothes that Leah had set out for him. They clearly had belonged to her husband and he could tell just by looking at them that they would be uncomfortably large. He had no desire to wear them. Without further thought, he reached for his usual outfit. In the same way that he hadn't really _needed_ a bath, his clothes didn't really need to be washed. They were a bit creased from being slept in, but they were perfectly clean. He pulled them on swiftly. If she didn't want to be seen in public with him dressed like this, that was her problem.

When he stepped out of the washroom shortly thereafter, he found Leah waiting by the front door. Upon seeing him back in his usual outfit she smiled wryly.

"I take it the clothes didn't fit?" She asked. He shook his head. "Alright. I'll see if I can pick up something for you next time I'm in town. You'll have to stay out from underfoot with the horses though. I don't want to risk you getting stepped on without proper shoes on your feet," she said. He felt an inexplicable prick of annoyance.

"What's it to you?" He demanded curtly.

"I don't want you to get hurt," she replied, turning to open the door. Over the course of the morning his growing feelings of confusion and disgruntlement had been festering; the same feelings that had been plaguing him ever since he'd met this young woman. The most recent dream, and the previous night's unnerving events, had swept his immediate anger with her back, binding it up in a cord of uncertainty and disquiet. Despite the initial strength of it, the cord had been slowly fraying, plucked at by surprises and annoyance. At her words it finally snapped. He reached out and grabbed her arm, yanking her back from the door before slamming her against the wall and pinning her there, staring down at her furiously.

"Why are you doing this to me?" He demanded harshly. She stared up at him wide eyed, any response she might have had to the question jarred out of her by the violence of his outburst. " _Why?_ " He growled. Her expression filled with confusion, which only angered him further. It wasn't possible for a person to be so damn innocent. What could she possibly be getting out of all of this?

"I'm not sure what you mean," she answered him shakily.

"Don't lie to me!" He yelled, enraged. He was gripping her shoulders far tighter than could be comfortable.

"I'm not," she whispered, tears springing to her eyes from the heat of his vehemence. At the sight of them as they spilled over and ran down her cheeks, Envy's heart clenched in a way he didn't understand. It penetrated through his anger enough for him to realize that there was indeed no lie in her eyes. Deep down he understood with an unsettling certainty that there had never once been any hint of malice in her actions. She had never intended to upset him. Yet, this only served to anger him further. How could she treat them this way? How _dare_ she treat him this way! There was something so horribly wrong about the entire situation, but he wasn't sure what it was. He wasn't even sure why he was so angry. The look in her eyes just added fuel to the fire. She was at the mercy of a man who had told her to her face that he fully intended to kill her. But there was no terror or desperation in her gaze. She wasn't even trying to plead with him. She was simply watching him with a confused sadness written across her face. He very much doubted that she would raise a hand to defend herself against him, even if she could.

Unable to stand the sight of her any longer, he jerked back as if she'd burned him and stormed away down the hall. Entering the bedroom he slammed the door with enough force to shake the building. He felt as if he was going to spontaneously combust. Why was he so angry? He paced up and down, scowling. He wanted to kill something. That girl… He wanted to make her suffer for the way she was making _him_ suffer!

_How is she making you suffer?_

The same voice from earlier spoke up in his mind. He came to a halt, the words giving him pause. Nothing came to mind for an answer.

"I don't know. She just is!" He growled. Down the hall, he heard the front door open and shut again as Leah left.

_I think you do know._

The voice was unrelenting.

"No, I don't! It's the way she treats me. It's just maddening because… because…" He trailed off, at a loss for words.

_Because you know you are unworthy of it._

The voice supplied. Envy's eyes widened. His hands clenched into fists.

"That isn't the reason!" He yelled.

_When was the last time a person treated you with kindness?_

Envy stared straight ahead, shocked by the words. He didn't know how to respond.

_What is it about her kindness that makes you so uncomfortable?_

"I don't know," he whispered hoarsely.

_Yes you do._

"I just don't understand it," he muttered finally. His anger was slowly subsiding.

_Go after her._

"What?!" His eyes flashed in consternation.

_Just do it._

Envy blinked several times. Now his own personal voice was ordering him around. He glanced out the window and was surprised to catch sight of Leah sprinting away across the field, her hair gleaming in the morning sunlight. A moment later she disappeared from sight over the ridge of a hill. He felt a prick of uneasiness. Was she running off to get help from other humans? Would she sell him out to people who would try to kill him? She certainly had no reason not to. Disturbed by this prospect, suddenly listening to the voice sounded like a good idea. Without a second thought he turned and bolted from the room.

Outside, he broke into a run, following the old footpath which Leah had taken. His legs were burning in protest by the time he had reached the top of the hill. Down the other side, the path wound through the lush countryside until it reached a building in the distance. That had to be the stable. He could see her already approaching her destination.

With a sigh of exasperation, he set off after her. Closer to the stable, the fields were dotted with a handful of horses. In the immediate proximity of the building there were a number of smaller, empty pens. By the time he reached the barn itself he was exhausted. This was the most exercise he'd had in days. He came to a stop, resting his hands on his thighs as he caught his breath. This was absurd. Homunculi weren't supposed to get out of shape! This level of weakness was pathetic. Although, he would've been lucky to make it just a quarter of this distance three days ago. At least he was making progress.

The barn itself wasn't huge. It probably only held about ten horses. The large sliding door at one end was shut. There was a small man-door next to it. He tried the knob and found it unlocked. The door swung inward to reveal a dimly lit interior. The strong smell of straw, hay, and manure, mingled with the unmistakable musk of horse, washed over him. He wrinkled his nose. It wasn't a bad smell exactly, but it took some getting used to. The wide isle was lined with stalls, their occupants making themselves known with excited nickering and hooves pawing sharply at wooden doors. Leah's location in the barn was betrayed by the numerous pairs of equine ears pricked forward eagerly towards one of the stalls at the end, the door of which was open. Envy stepped forward into the isle. Any noise which the man-door made as it slid shut behind him was masked by the din of the horses who paid him no heed, their attention fixed on the human whom they recognized as the person who turned them outside each morning and brought them their daily feed.

He stood for a moment just inside the door, unsure of how to proceed. In the panic of the moment he'd worried about what her intentions had been for running off. But seeing as she'd specifically stated she worked alone, and she'd come immediately here, she clearly hadn't been intending to get help from anyone. Not yet in any case. Even so… it was still possible that she could change her mind. For some reason it was only now occurring to him that, in a way, he was at the mercy of this girl. Unless he could bring himself to harm her, there was no way for him to stop her from turning him over to the authorities. It was humiliating to realize but he was in no position to be fighting anyone off. He needed to make sure that she wouldn't put him in that position.

With this in mind he made his way down the barn aisle to the stall with the open door. There he found Leah leaning against the wall, her arms crossed, her head bowed, an expression of deep thought on her face as she stared at the floor. As he came to a stop in the door of the stall, she glanced up in surprise. He'd half expected to find her crying, but her face showed no sign of recent tears. Her eyes were wary. She made no attempt to speak to him, but simply stared, waiting to see what his intentions were. Finding the weight of her gaze oddly unnerving, he broke eye contact, glancing down at the dirt floor as he clenched his jaw.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," he somehow managed to force the words out. They were, in fact, true. If his intent had been to harm her, she wouldn't have been in any condition to be running away at the end of it. There was silence for a moment. He heard her sigh.

"I'm sorry I left you behind. My emotions got the better of me," she spoke up finally. At her words his gaze darted back to her face in a wash of incredulity. Had _she_ seriously just apologized to _him_? Her tone had been neutral and her expression was difficult to read. He wasn't even sure how to respond to her statement. There was an odd emotion rising up in his chest that he didn't understand.

"Why?" He asked finally.

"Why what?" Her tone was dubious.

"Why are you treating me like this?" His voice was hoarse. There was an odd pressure building behind his eyes that he didn't recognize. She appeared momentarily at a loss for words. Then the guardedness of her expression melted, revealing the same look in her eyes that had been there the night before. It was a look of pity. Ordinarily such a look would have rankled him, but at the moment it only puzzled him. She pushed off the wall and slowly crossed the stall, coming to a stop in front of him. Her expression flickered for a moment with uncertainty. Then she raised a hand and cautiously rested it on his chest over where his heart would be. He stared down at her, hardly able to breathe. What was she doing? She stared at his chest for a moment, appearing to be searching for the words she needed to say. Finally she spoke.

"You are hurting here," she stated carefully, "far worse than you could ever hurt me." When she met his gaze there was a knowing look in her grey eyes. "How can I possibly hold any of your actions towards me against you? You made your intentions clear from the start. I've chosen to help you anyway, of my own free will. If I took offense to you the blame would rest solely on my shoulders," she explained. Envy stared at her wide eyed, his heart clenching painfully beneath where her hand rested. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Abruptly he pulled back from her touch and turned his back on her, fighting to control his emotions. There was an extended silence. Finally he found his voice.

"I see what you're hoping to do, but don't waste your time. I've been beyond saving for longer than you've been alive," he informed her bitterly. "There isn't anything that can help me anymore."

"How long have you been feeding yourself that lie?" Leah inquired softly. Envy's eyes widened and a wave of anger washed through him. He whirled on her furiously.

"What could you possibly know about it?" He snapped. She gazed at him gravely.

"Do you want to be saved?" Her tone was calm. He stared at her, momentarily unsure of how to respond. Finally he shook his head, eyes flashing with contempt.

"You have no idea who you're talking to. Give up while you're ahead, girl. Sweetness and light only go so far in the real world." The hostile edge was back in his voice. He turned to leave but she spoke up again, making him hesitate.

"You didn't answer my question," she pointed out. His hands clenched into fists, the intense desire to inflict grievous injury on her flaring within him. But something deeper inside him stirred, warring against his initial urge. He couldn't bring himself to fight past it and take out his violent emotions on her, and he also realized, much to his dismay, that neither could he bring himself to answer her question. So he did what days before would've been unthinkable: he simply walked away.

Outside, he leaned against the rail fence around one of the paddocks, his expression brooding. Never in his life had he felt as shaken up as he did around this human. He'd never met anyone like her in all his long years of existence. He hadn't known it was possible for someone to behave as she did. It was utterly unsettling. Worse, he was starting to realize he would likely never be able to finish her off. He couldn't bring himself to seriously consider the idea anymore. The desire he'd felt to harm her, only moments before, had left him with a sick feeling in his stomach. He was disgusted at his own impulses. He shook his head. How had he let things get this far? He'd known instinctively from the first time he'd laid eyes on her that this girl was a danger to him. Logically it made no sense, but there was just something about her. Her connection to his past was concerning all on its own. But her inexplicable kindness towards him had added an explosive fuel to the fire. He felt like he barely knew himself anymore. His goals had grown fuzzy. He wasn't sure what he wanted at this point.

A short time later the large barn door slid open, startling him from his thoughts. Leah emerged, leading a buckskin horse. She turned it out in one of the small pens, latching the gate shut behind her and hanging the halter on the fence. She repeated this process until all of the small pens, save for the one he was leaning against, were filled. From there she took a wheelbarrow, filled it with hay from the large bale outside the barn, and proceeded to bring food around to each of the horses. Envy climbed up to sit on the top rail of the fence as he watched her work. When she finished, she disappeared into the barn for a while, emerging occasionally with a wheelbarrow full of straw and manure which she emptied somewhere around the back of the barn. Envy was quite content to sit and wait. The trek to the barn had worn him out, and he felt no desire to help her.

She emerged some time later without the wheelbarrow and walked over to where he was seated. He could hear the distant whinny of a horse from inside the barn, apparently protesting over being left alone. He wondered a bit at this, but didn't feel inclined to ask. Without a word she climbed up to sit next him on the fence. He glanced at her warily from the corner of his eye. What did she want now?

"How are you feeling?" She inquired.

"Why do you want to know?" He shot back, tilting his head to stare at her in annoyance. She shrugged. Then, as she met his gaze, her expression changed and she chuckled softly. He raised his eyebrows in puzzlement.

"You remind me of him, you know," she said. He blinked.

"Of who?" His tone was wary

"My husband," she replied. Envy stared at her blankly.

"...Did you hit your head on the wall when I pinned you there?" He demanded finally. She shook her head, a distant smile on her face.

"No. It's your mannerisms," she replied. Then as an afterthought, "And, when he first met me, he was a complete jerk. I'm pretty sure he hated me." Her tone was amused. Envy stared at her, dumbfounded by this revelation. Setting aside his own mixed up feelings, for a normal guy to hate her ...well, calling him a 'jerk' didn't quite cover it. She didn't strike him as someone who would be considered dislikeable by the average human . A memory stirred in the back of his mind. He felt a thrill of alarm, worried he might have another waking flashback.

"Sounds like a complicated relationship," he commented. Maybe keeping up the conversation would distract him enough to avoid any further stirrings of his old self...

"Not really," she replied softly, her gaze drifting off into the distance. When she didn't continue he felt a prick of frustration.

"Care to elaborate?" He asked, keeping his voice even through an act of willpower. She glanced at him in surprise, his unexpected interest clearly taking her off guard.

"Well," she seemed to ponder something for a moment. There was an uncharacteristic look in her eyes that, after a moment, he recognized as pain. He blinked. It hadn't occurred to him that talking about the man whose loss she was grieving might be the last thing she felt like doing. He hesitated a moment.

"If you don't want to talk about it, it's fine," he told her, surprising himself. The alien desire to alleviate her suffering had risen up out of nowhere and the words had rolled off his tongue without any thought.

"No, it's okay. It'd probably be good for me to talk about it for a change," she replied finally. A sigh escaped her lips and she fell silent for a moment, thinking. "We met when we were children," she began. "He pushed me into the mud when I tried to intervene in a fight between him and another boy. I told him he should apologize. He told me I wasn't the boss of him," she smiled, the distant look returning to her eyes. "He went out of his way to harass me and make fun of me every chance he got after that."

"Well that sounds like the start of a warm and fuzzy relationship," Envy's tone was dry. She chuckled softly.

"It was certainly interesting during the first few years. He could never understand why I refused to tattle on him."

"Why wouldn't you?" Envy raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't like getting people in trouble on my account," she replied simply. His expression grew incredulous, although at this point he wasn't sure why he was even surprised.

"That's one of the stupidest things I've ever heard," he told her, thoroughly disgusted. She grinned.

"That's what he said too," she replied.

"So how did you end up marrying this guy?"

"He moved away for a few years. I guess it broadened his horizons. By the time he came back he wasn't the same immature little boy I had known before. And I wasn't the same opinionated little girl."

"You, opinionated?" Envy's eyebrows shot up. At his startled expression she let out a laugh.

"Well, I've never been very outspoken, but I was pretty blunt when I was younger," she smiled. "Anyway, for whatever reason he was much kinder to me after that. We ended up becoming friends, and things just went from there," she explained. Envy raised an eyebrow.

"So essentially you're saying I remind you of an immature little boy," his tone was unenthused. Her eyes widened.

"Oh… Well I didn't really mean it like that," she assured him.

"Then how did you mean it?" He demanded, a little disturbed.

"It's… hard to explain," she frowned, glancing away. He stared at her for a moment.

"Well, I'm not your husband," he said finally, "I'm sin incarnate." His tone was mockingly bitter. She glanced back at him in puzzlement.

"No you aren't," she protested. At this he gave a humourless laugh.

"You don't know me."

"Maybe not... But you claiming to be a sin is about as illogical as me claiming to be an act of charity." Her expression was skeptical. A smirk twisted his lips.

"Aren't you, though?"

"No, I'm a person. An act of charity is a choice, just as a sin is a choice," she said.

"I was brought into the world through choice," he retorted. She was thoughtfully silent for a moment.

"Alright, here's a question for you. When a woman is raped and a child is born as a result, is that child a sin?" She raised an eyebrow at him. Envy stared at her, taken off guard by the blunt change of subject. When he didn't answer, she continued. "No, it isn't. The sin rests entirely on the father. The only sins that child is responsible for are the ones he chooses to commit himself. And if he falls so far as to repeat his father's mistakes, or worse, he is still a person, not a sin. Being sinful only means that you have free will and that you've chosen to misuse it," she explained. He stared at her a moment, a little unnerved by the direction the conversation had gone in.

"Why does it matter?" He demanded, unenthused.

"It matters because a sin, in and of itself, is never forgivable. But a sinner is. Wrong actions will always be wrong. But people can change," she replied. Envy rolled his eyes.

"Whatever," he muttered, glancing away. Leah let out a soft sigh. There was a brief silence before she finally broke it.

"Could I…?" She began, but trailed off reluctantly. Envy glanced at with a raised eyebrow. She swallowed. "Could I ask you to move?" She asked. He stared at her flatly.

"Sure, you could ask. But I don't see any reason for me to listen to you," he retorted. She grimaced.

"There's one last horse I need to turn out, but I have to put him in this pen. He's pretty nosy and tends to nip, so it would be better if you weren't sitting here," she explained. He raised both eyebrows. Well in that case... Without further comment he leapt easily down from the fence.

"Thank you," she told him gratefully, sliding down as well.

"I was tired of sitting anyway," he retorted airily. After the experiences of his past, horses weren't an animal he had an affinity for. He felt no desire to be bothered by one. She chuckled softly and headed back to the barn.

Several minutes after disappearing into the large door, Leah reappeared leading an unexpectedly large, pinto. Next to something of that size the girl seemed absurdly small. If it were to bolt off he suspected she'd been flapping like a kite in the wind behind it. For the moment it walked quietly beside her towards the empty pen. Then, as Envy watched, the creature's expression shifted from peaceful to what could only be described as thoroughly annoyed, its ears flattening against its skull, its eyes and nostrils crinkling. It jerked its head sideways, moving at lightning speed in an attempt to bite the young woman. Without even glancing at her charge she moved with equal swiftness, intercepting the creature with a resounding swat to the side of its muzzle. The horse tossed its head in the air and pranced sideways.

"Enough!" The ring of authority in the woman's tone was so shockingly out of character that Envy tensed in surprise. Finding his handler uncowed, the gelding quieted. It followed her the rest of the way to the pen without further protest. Once through the gate she removed the creature's halter, reaching up to scratch its forehead and plant a kiss there with the murmured words, "There you go, you big dummy." The horse heaved a sigh, then moved off to nibble grass at the edge of the pen. Leah exited the pen and hung the halter on the fence before turning and strolling over to where Envy stood. Upon seeing his odd expression she cocked her head questioningly.

"I didn't realize you had a backbone," he commented finally. Although he was loathe to admit it, in his current condition a fifteen-hundred pound, angry horse was a decidedly more intimidating adversary than he was. And yet, despite her timidity towards himself, she'd stood up to the creature without batting an eyelash. It was puzzling. 

Leah shrugged.

"He's generally pretty agreeable as long as he respects you. He was just miffed about being the last horse turned out," she explained.

"So if you can stand up to a horse, why don't you stand up to me?" He demanded. She stared at him, clearly taken off guard. There was a silence. Then a small smile pulled at her lips.

"Because I somehow doubt that smacking you in the face and telling you 'enough' would work very well," she replied, her eyes sparkling with teasing amusement. Envy stared at her blankly. That wasn't quite what he meant. But then, he could see her point. "Come on. Let's get back. I suspect you could use a meal after all this exercise," she said. A resigned sigh escaped his lips.

"Fine," he muttered.


	6. Chapter 6

After the long walk home, Envy was quite content to sit at the kitchen table and watch Leah as she set about preparing lunch. She washed her hands under the tap, scrubbing away the grime that had accumulated beneath her nails from barn chores, before reaching for a frying pan in a cupboard under the counter. Setting it on the stove to heat up, she pulled a knife from one of the drawers and reached for the loaf of bread on the counter. She was humming softly to herself as she worked, something which Envy was beginning to grow used to. Their conversation earlier played over in his mind as he stared at her.

_A sin, in and of itself, is never forgivable. But a sinner is. Wrong actions will always be wrong. But people can change._

He couldn't help but wonder what her reaction would be if she found out just what kind of person he really was. How would she handle it? Surely her charity had limits. He felt a prick of curiosity he couldn't seem to squash. After everything, he still found it hard to believe she truly was the way she seemed. It just didn't seem possible. If only he could make her turn on him it would shatter the illusion of 'goodness' that she'd created and prove that her selflessness was nothing but a facade.

"What would you do if I told you I was a mass murderer?" He asked abruptly. The out of the blue question brought Leah up short, her hands freezing in the middle of slicing the bread. Silence filled the room. Her back was to him and Envy couldn't help but wish he could see the expression on her face. Finally she resumed cutting the loaf, still not turning to glance at him.

"I would ask if you planned on killing more people in future," her voice was neutral.

"And if I said yes?" Envy pressed. He saw her shoulders tense and she stopped cutting again. Finally she put down the knife and turned to face him. Her gaze was keen but he couldn't clearly read the emotion behind her eyes.

"Then you will be putting me in a very difficult situation. I want to help you get better. But if helping you means people will die by your hand afterwards…" She paused, biting her lip and breaking eye contact, clearly reluctant to continue. "Then I can't keep helping you." The words were soft but firm. She met his gaze again and he saw a grim determination in her eyes. Envy raised an eyebrow.

"Are you saying you'd kick me out?" He asked. Her determination seemed to waver, her expression growing troubled. She appeared unsure of how to respond and was likely coming to the conclusion that she wouldn't be able to force him to leave if he refused to comply. He was still weaker than he had originally been but he had regained enough strength that he could overpower her if necessary. After a moment he smirked. Apparently her help wasn't unconditional after all. "Well then, it's a good thing I didn't tell you that," he said finally. At his words she frowned.

"Who is it you want to kill?" She asked.

"I never said I wanted to kill anyone," he retorted. "I simply posed the question of what you would do if I did." His eyes glinted with cold amusement. There was something satisfying about deflecting a person's question without outright lying. Unfortunately, Leah appeared unconvinced.

"Who is it that you want to kill?" She repeated the question. He felt a prick of annoyance. Rather than responding, he simply glared at her, not feeling like repeating himself. She stared at him for a moment, a frown creasing her brow. Then she crossed the room, pulled out a chair and sat down across from him. Her expression was flatly unreadable. "Tell me," she ordered.

"Make me," he snapped, thoroughly irritated by her persistence. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.

"So you admit there is someone you intend to kill," she said. His hands clenched into fists but he refused to respond. "Fine, don't tell me who it is. But at least tell me how many people you plan on killing," her voice took on a pleading note. Her eyes were wide, searching.

"The man I need to kill, and anyone who tries to interfere," he replied. His tone was curt. She was silent for a moment, appearing to consider how to respond.

"Is there anyone else you 'need' to kill?" She asked carefully

"Just him. Nothing else matters after that," his tone was blunt.

"I see…" Her expression grew troubled and her gaze dropped to the table. After a moment he let out an exasperated sigh.

"Look, if it's any consolation, I have no idea where he is or how to go about finding him," he muttered. It was mostly true. Edward had said Hohenheim was in a place called London, but Envy hadn't a clue whether that was a town, a city, or even a country for that matter. And now that his caregiver had made her position clear, he wasn't about to go to her for information. He doubted she'd be willing to tell him, and he had the distinct feeling that she'd be willing to die over it if it meant keeping him from killing someone else. She might give in to torture, but that wasn't something he had the stomach for at this point. And in any case, he still wasn't in any condition to go off searching for the man at the moment. Leah raised her eyes to stare at him, holding his gaze with a calculating intensity that was unnerving. He sat back in his chair, almost uneasy beneath the weight of it, and completely at a loss as to what was going on behind those clear eyes. Whatever she read in his expression seemed to take the edge off of her persistence.

"Alright," she murmured reluctantly, dropping her gaze. Without further comment she rose and returned to the preparation of lunch.

The rest of the day passed quietly. After lunch, Leah busied herself with housework. Envy wandered into the bedroom, unsure of what to do with himself. The bed was already made, the pillows fluffed invitiingly, but he didn't feel like napping just yet. His fingers trailed idly over the smooth mahogany of the nightstand, coming to rest on the pewter handle of the shallow drawer. He pulled it open disinterestedly. It was empty, save for a single book, the cover of which was worn from use. The Holy Bible. He blinked, staring down at it for a moment. He felt a strange revulsion twist his stomach. Without further thought he slammed the drawer shut and turned away.

He continued to wander through the house, flipping through the various books he found on the living room bookcase and going through the contents of drawers and cupboards. He was aware that this wasn't terribly polite behaviour, but his host didn't seem to mind and he was bored. Unfortunately there didn't appear to be anything of great interest in the house. He eventually gave up and threw himself down on the couch. After the vigorous exercise that morning, it wasn't long before he fell into a sound sleep.

Sometime later he was woken by touch on his shoulder. He found Leah was staring down at him. Her dress had been replaced by her silvery nightgown, her long curls damp from a recent bath.

"Sorry to wake you, but you should eat some supper. I've already eaten, but there's still some soup in a pot on the stove," she informed him. The delicious smell drifting through the air confirmed her words. He needed no further convincing. He slowly sat up, taking a moment to stretch his arms above his head with a yawn, letting the grogginess relinquish its hold on him before he finally rose to his feet. Outside, the sun had already set, plunging much of the living room into shadow. The only light came from the warm glow of a lamp on one of the end tables. Because of this, when he caught sight of dark markings mottling Leah's bare shoulders he assumed at first that his eyes were playing tricks on him. Then, as he gazed more intently at the smudges, they resolved themselves into the shapes of fingerprints. His initial puzzlement at the sight was swiftly replaced by a very different emotion, the fact dawning on him that the shapes were, in fact, bruises--bruises he'd put there that morning.

Leah had turned to walk away but when he didn't make any move to follow her she glanced back questioningly. Seeing the frozen expression on his face, she frowned in concern.

"Is everything okay?" She asked. Guilt stabbed through him like a blade, bringing with it a wash of regret and longing that stole his breath away. He felt a disorienting shift in his consciousness, and he was suddenly William again, Calandra's gravestone hovering in the front of his mind. The emotional transformation was so powerful that his eyes stung with tears.

"I'm sorry." He barely recognized the sound of his own voice, filled as it was with a sort of pain he'd rarely ever felt. He took a step towards her, reaching out a hand without thinking. She flinched in surprise, taken off guard. He froze, his brain catching up with his actions. What was he doing? His thoughts had become dangerously muddled. His hand dropped uselessly to his side and he turned away, swallowing hard past the lump that had formed in his throat. The battle raging inside him against the overpowering presence of William was perilously close to being lost. He needed to get away from Leah. But before he could make for the hall, a hand came down on his shoulder, stopping him.

"Wait," Leah's tone was anxious. Envy's mind went blank. "You just startled me. I didn't—" At her touch and the tone in her voice, any remaining rational thought departed his mind. He reached up, grabbed her wrist, and turned. In an instant he'd pulled her into his arms. He'd moved much too quickly for her to resist. His arms encircled her, providing no chance for escape. He rested his face against the crook of her neck, holding her tightly against him, oblivious to her surprised gasp and the fact that she went as ridged a board. Setting aside the tension already present in their relationship, this was a much more intimate hug than would ever pass between acquaintances if social norms were being followed--which at the moment, they clearly weren't.

"I'm so sorry, Calandra," he whispered hoarsely. "So, so, sorry." He felt her shiver from his breath tickling across the skin of her neck. The words had tumbled thoughtlessly from his lips, driven by the overpowering sense of guilt and regret that had forcibly seized hold of him. He held her that way for several minutes, and though she slowly began to relax in his arms, she made no move to return the hug.

"Who… is Calandra?" She asked hesitantly. Her question broke the spell. Envy blinked, snapped out of his daze. As his rational self reclaimed control, it took a moment for him to process the situation. His conscious mind did a double take as he realized he had Leah in his arms, his face half buried in her damp curls. What the hell was he doing?! He released her swiftly and stepped back, putting a much more appropriate space between them. Leah's eyes were wide and her cheeks were ashen. Clearly his erratic behavior was beginning to worry her. Envy met her wary gaze and found he wasn't sure what to say. He felt just as disturbed as she appeared. He was genuinely losing his mind. He couldn't blame Leah if she was frightened. Just that morning he'd assaulted her unprovoked, and now he'd grabbed her into hug, calling her by a different name. The hug, oddly enough, seemed to have rattled her more than his angry outburst had that morning; though perhaps it was due to her uncertainty as to what his intentions were, and whether or not his actions would progress past what he had just done.

Finally Leah swallowed, gathering herself together.

"That's the second time you've call me that," she spoke up. Envy turned away, raising a hand to massage his temples. She was standing between him and the door to the hall, and though she was hardly much of a barrier, it left him feeling oddly trapped. "Who is she?" Leah demanded.

"A girl I used to know. You look just like her," he muttered, hoping she would let the topic drop but realizing she likely wouldn't. There was a brief silence.

"What happened to her?" Leah inquired finally.

"She died," Envy's tone was blunt as he glowered at the floor. He heard her soft intake of breath and could picture her expression clearly without having to look. He didn't want to see the pained sympathy in her eyes.

"What was she to you?" She asked gently. Envy glanced at her then, his amethyst eyes flashing with annoyance.

"What's it to you?" He growled.

"I'm curious," she replied simply. If his shift in mood troubled her, she hid it well.

"It doesn't matter. It's ancient history," he retorted, feeling strangely defensive.

"It matters to me," Leah insisted. Envy's expression darkened.

"Do you really think you can badger me telling you?" He demanded in a mocking tone. She raised her chin, undaunted.

"Perhaps not, but I can always just stop feeding you," she replied bluntly. Incredulity flashed across Envy's features.

"Look here, girl, you're in no position to be making threats," he snapped, a dangerous edge entering his voice.

"Aren't I?" There was a hardness to her gaze that he'd never seen before. He turned to face her fully. At his furious expression she took a step backwards, though she didn't appear shaken.

"I don't know where this is coming from, but if you don't change your tune I'll make you regret it," he seethed menacingly. Her expression became unreadable.

"I think you're overreacting," she told him flatly. At his inability to intimidate her, his anger flared to a hotter intensity. Everything began to happen very quickly then. Rage clouded his mind, and the next thing he knew he had backed her up against the wall, the little space remaining between them filled with palpable tension as he stared down at her. His gaze could have stripped paint.

"If you hurt me again, are you sure you won't regret it later?" Her words brought him up short. While the danger of her position was evident, he found there was a calculating look in her eyes. And despite the hatred that had sprung up from somewhere inside him, burning through his chest, he realized he couldn't lay hands on her. She was right. Both times he'd seen her hurting in some way, William had risen up in his mind. He couldn't afford to let that happen again. The dominating presence that had seized control of his mind was acutely aware of the danger such a slip posed.

"This is your fault." His voice was low but furious. "You're destroying me, you _worthless_ woman! How _dare_ you do this to me," he growled. "You should be dead. I should have killed you ages ago!"

"Why haven't you?" She asked quietly.

"Because I can't!" He roared. Unable to take out his anger on her, he lashed out on impulse, punching a hole through the plaster wall right beside her head. She flinched, shutting her eyes involuntarily. As he withdrew his hand from the jagged hole he'd created he felt the familiar thrill of electricity across his knuckles, knitting together the split skin and healing the inevitable bruising. His vision blurred slightly and his head spun. He clenched his hands into fists and bowed his head, panting, shaking from both the drain on his reserves and the heat of his emotions. Leah's momentarily frightened expression had caused an unfortunately familiar stirring inside him. No, no, _no_! "Dammit all! This shouldn't be happening. I'm not William anymore. He's dead and gone!" The frustration he felt was overwhelming.

"Who are you then?" Despite the fright his violent outburst had caused her, Leah's voice remained even.

"I'm Envy," he snarled, raising his head to stare into her eyes, hatred burning in the depths of his gaze. His entire demeanor had changed, his aura radiating a hostility that far surpassed his usual surliness. He was not the same person he'd been moments before. She shrank back ever so slightly.

"Envy isn't a name, it's a sin," she pointed out guardedly. It was the last straw. He was sick of her calmness in the face of the threat he posed to her. An instant later his hand was around her throat, slamming her back against the wall.

"Precisely," he hissed. "This is my life; _my_ body. He has no right to interfere. I'm the one in control now and I always will be. I didn't wrest this form from his control only to have him take over again this many years later!" His voice was frighteningly menacing, almost guttural. His eyes seemed to glow with a chilling light that hadn't been there before, and as he stared at her he saw her expression finally change. Maybe it was his words, or his tone, or perhaps it was his fingers digging into her neck and cutting off the majority of her air. There was a flicker of fear across her face. He felt a thrill of satisfaction. She knew. She knew exactly what he was now. Given her religious beliefs, there could be little doubt in her mind. The presence of evil seem to thicken the air around them, heightening the fear he could sense radiating off of her. His hand tightened, cutting off her remaining air supply. This was it. _Finally_ he could finish her off, once and for all. In another few minutes the pulse racing desperately beneath his fingers would flutter to a final stop, and it would be all over. Humans really were such fragile things.

But then, to his dismay, something changed. He could see it in her eyes. Despite the mortal danger she was in, something had shifted. The fear vanished from her aura. A new presence entered the air, driving back the ominous atmosphere. He recoiled, releasing her and staggering back several steps. She sagged against the wall, gasping in the air she'd been deprived of. Slowly, her breathing began to even out again. Finally she met his gaze. To the average observer the only visible change in her was the peacefulness that settled over her features, something that seemed incomprehensible given her current situation. But at the moment, Envy was no average observer. He could see it. A warm light had kindled inside her, lighting her from within with an unearthly glow. Although it was shining inside her, he knew she was not the source of it. She was nothing more than an ordinary girl. This power had come from an outside source. It was working through her, bringing her comfort and lending her strength. It was pure and beautiful. And she was radiant with it. It blinded him, making him hiss with anger.

"William?" When she spoke, the serenity in her voice hurt his ears. He jerked backwards, nearly stumbling over the coffee table as he cradled his head in his hands.

"Don't call me that!" He cried in an agonized voice.

"William," her voice was firm as she straightened up, stepping away from the wall towards him. "I know you're still in there. Don't give up now," she urged. Her eyes were bright with earnestness. Envy was visibly shaking now. He could feeling something pushing back his oppressive darkness. He already knew he'd lost. If he didn't surrender now he would be permanently driven out. He couldn't risk that. Though it sickened him, it was far better to temporarily relinquish control. He could always strike while the iron was hot at a later date. But _damn_ that human girl anyway! With a howl of pain and rage his legs gave out and he fell to his knees. A violent shudder ran through him and his heart clenched, coming to a complete standstill for the briefest of moments. Then, with a final stab of agonized rage, the dominating power vanished from within him. He gasped in a breath, his heart galloping forward once more as it fought to pound its way out of his ribcage to make up for the beats it had missed.

As the oppressive darkness loosened its hold on his soul, an alien feeling of relief crashed over him. It wasn't the feeling in and of itself that was alien. It was the purity of it. It welled up in his eyes and spilled down his cheeks. He felt the air racing in to fill his lungs with each breath, as though for the first time in years he was finally able to breathe. No sobs rose up in his throat, but tears flowed freely down his cheeks, dripping onto the floor. He was dimly aware of footsteps coming towards him, and a moment later Leah knelt down in front of him, bringing herself down to his level. Slowly, he raised his head, looking up into her face and seeing her with new eyes. She seemed to be wavering, concern obvious in her pale grey eyes, but a nervous hesitancy to her movements. The glow from within her had vanished from his sight. He felt a sting of guilt that had nothing to do with his past. This was Leah, not Calandra. But she'd been very kind to him and he'd treated her horribly for it.

"I'm sorry, Leah," he told her in a hoarse voice. Her eyes widened in surprise. It was the first time he'd ever called her by name.

"Are you okay?" She asked anxiously. He hesitated a moment, turning the words over in his mind. When he finally answered, his voice was stronger than before.

"I think... that I'm the best I've been in a very long time," he said. Though it was the same one he'd always used, his voice sounded startlingly different. There was a warmth to it that had never been there before. A look of amazement passed over her features, and then an overwhelming relief flooded into her expression. She threw her arms around his shoulders, clinging to him tightly. He drew in a sharp breath, taken aback. His heart fluttered in surprise, an unfamiliar warmth rising in his chest. Slowly, hesitantly, he raised his arms and settled them around her, moving with the utmost caution. He was a little startled by her reaction. There must've been a dramatic shift in his demeanour for her to be comfortable doing this. He was surprised to find she was trembling. Despite her admirable display of courage in standing up to him, she must have been terrified. They stayed like that for a time. Slowly, her trembling ceased. When she finally loosened her hold on him he found himself reluctant to let her go. There was something unexpectedly pleasant about holding her like this. It satisfied a craving he hadn't realized he had for the comforting physical contact of another person.

He let his arms fall away from her as she pulled back. She stared at him for a moment, her eyes shining with what he suspected were held back tears.

"Do you mind if I call you William now?" She asked, the raspiness of her voice suddenly becoming apparent to him. His guilt redoubled as he recognized it as the direct result of his choking her.

"I don't mind." His voice broke as he replied. "I'm so... I just..." he stammered, his gaze falling to the floor as he found himself unable to hold eye contact with her. "I should leave. I don't deserve this. Your kindness, I mean. First Calandra, and now you... I've treated you even worse than I treated her. I just...I can't make up for it." Crushing guilt had replaced the anger and bitterness in his heart. He could never make up for any of the things he'd done. It was too late now; far too late. His despairing thoughts were interrupted as Leah reached up, gently taking his face in her hands, forcing him to lift his gaze to hers. His eyes widened at her touch, finding the tender look in her eyes to be utterly inexplicable.

"William," she said, "I can't speak for Calandra. But I've already forgiven you." The sincerity in her voice cut through the suffocating guilt. He stared at her, completely speechless. She released him then, and rose to her feet."Come on. You've got to be hungry. Let's get some food into you, and then we can both go to bed. You look exhausted," she told him, extending a hand to him to help him up. At her words, he became acutely aware of the fatigue weighing down his limbs. Punching the wall had definitely done a number on him. He took her hand, rising to his feet.

"Alright...But on one condition," he said. Her eyebrows rose questioningly. "I'm sleeping on the couch tonight." His tone was firm. Her eyes widened in surprise.

"But—" she began, but he cut her off.

"No buts. It's past time you got your bed back. I've already spent the afternoon napping out here, and I don't see any reason to move. Unless you intend to forcibly drag me to your room," he added dryly. Her cheeks colored ever so slightly and then a resigned smile pulled at her lips.

"Alright, if that's what you want."


	7. Chapter 7

As his eyes fluttered open the next morning, he lay for a moment enveloped in a peace that was empty of all thought or emotion. The first thing that entered his mind was a sense of puzzlement. Who was he? It was the oddest question, since its literal answer was plainly obvious. He was Envy. That was what everyone had always called him; that is, everyone save for Leah. She called him William. So who was he? William had died. Though he bore the young man's physical characteristics in his true form, and his memories still lingered on inside him, was that really who he was? He didn't have the answer just yet.

He could hear the sound of someone moving about in the kitchen. Pushing back the blanket which Leah had given him the previous night, he rose to his feet and started across the room, his bare feet padding soundlessly on the living room carpet. He found Leah in the kitchen, quietly getting out the ingredients for what he suspected was pancakes. He paused for a moment in the doorway, silently observing her. The dressing gown, which mercifully covered the bruises on her shoulders he'd found so distressing the previous night, flowed around her legs with each step, her movements as she grasped things and set them on the counter carried out with such gentleness that they hardly made a sound. Her hair, falling over her shoulders in ringlets tousled from sleep, shone softly in the morning sunlight which streamed in the window. She reached up into one of the cupboards, standing on tiptoe as she struggled to reach a plastic mixing bowl on the top shelf, her fingertips searching just short of their mark.

"Want some help?" Envy asked. As he spoke, she managed to hook the lip of the bowl, and at the sound of his voice she jumped, accidentally jerking the bowl from its place on the shelf. It bounced off the counter, clattered noisily to the floor and rolled, coming to a slow stop at Envy's feet. Leah turned towards him in surprise. He bent to pick up the bowl and crossed the room to her.

"Good morning. Sorry for startling you," he murmured, offering the bowl to her. She stared at him, apparently taken off guard .

"Oh… Thank you," she stammered, taking the bowl. "Did I wake you?" He shook his head in response. She stared at him a moment longer, and then something inexplicable happened: her cheeks reddened. She turned away abruptly, setting the bowl on the counter and swiftly procuring several more ingredients from the cupboards. A little puzzled by her suddenly flustered behaviour, Envy raised an eyebrow.

"Can I help?" He asked. Her hand jerked, bumping against the little tub baking soda already set out and causing it to topple over and roll off the counter.

"Oh!" She exclaimed. She bent to reach for it reflexively, but Envy beat her to it. As he began to straighten, he found Leah was in the process of doing the same thing, and both of them froze, narrowly avoiding bumping heads. For an instant they stared at each other, a surprising and unfamiliar tension filling the centimetres between their faces. Then she jerked sharply to a standing position again. When he straightened as well and handed the container to her, she could barely meet his eyes. A frown creased his brow.

"Is something wrong?" He asked. She glanced at him in surprise, and then her blush deepened, her gaze swiftly darting away again.

"I'm sorry. Nothing is wrong." She said, setting about measuring out the various ingredients into the bowl. Envy stared at her for a moment, noting the unusual crispness of her motions as she worked.

"You aren't a very good liar," he stated finally, bemused. She hesitated in what she was doing.

"I'm not lying," she glanced at him uncertainly. He raised an eyebrow. She bit her lip, growing sheepish.

"You make no sense. You're as placid as can be when I abuse you, but when I try to be pleasant you get all skittish on me." He felt a bit put-out. A soft laugh escaped her lips; a nervous sound, as if she didn't quite trust herself.

"That's just it. You've only ever been friendly when you mistook me for Calandra. I'm not used to you treating me personally that way," she murmured, clearly embarrassed. His eyes slowly widened. The guilt her words imparted stung like an unintentional slap. Abruptly his gaze dropped to the floor.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I guess saying I've been a real jerk doesn't quite cover it."

"Hey," she hesitated a moment, and then reached out and rested hand lightly on the side of his arm. "Don't beat yourself up. I already said I've forgiven you. Just bear with me." Her tone was reluctant. "I've spent a lot of time alone these past few months. The people in these parts are slow to accept outsiders, and I haven't lived here very long. It's been a while since anyone was kind to me," she admitted. He stared at her, at a loss for words. She thought _he_ was being kind to _her_? After everything she'd done for him, the idea that his simple act of offering to help make breakfast could be considered by her as an act of kindness was something he couldn't quite wrap his head around. He was broken out of his daze when she spoke again.

"If you want to help, there's a skillet in the drawer under the stove that you could start heating up," she suggested. A shy smile was pulling at her lips. Without a word he moved to obey.

It ended up being relatively simple to pull together breakfast for the two of them. Envy payed careful attention as Leah demonstrated the art of pouring batter into a pan and flipping it at the appropriate times. Before long they had a plate full of fluffy, golden pancakes. Following his host's instructions, Envy found the plates and cutlery and set the table while she poured them drinks and sliced some fruit. They remained mostly silent while they ate, a habit that had formed from Envy's persistent waspishness every morning, but as they were finishing the last of it Leah finally spoke up.

"Do you mind if I ask you a question again?" She asked carefully, keeping her gaze fixed studiously on the remaining piece of pancake on her plate. Envy glanced at her, bothered by the timidity of her tone. He could hardly fault her for being hesitant after the number of times he'd bitten her head off, but it only served to sharpen his feeling of guilt.

"Ask me whatever you want," he replied.

"Who was Calandra?" She asked softly. Envy let out a quietly resigned sigh, gaze returning to his own plate. He'd been expecting her to raise the subject again at some point. It was a moment before he spoke.

"She was the only real friend I ever had," he said finally. Then he hesitated a moment, before reluctantly continuing. "I loved her." The words felt strange on his lips, as if he'd never before uttered them. Then again, in this life he probably hadn't. There was silence for a time.

"I'm sorry." When she finally spoke, her voice broke slightly. Envy glanced up and felt a thrill of shock to see a tear slip down each of her cheeks, falling unchecked to the table where her gaze remained firmly anchored.

"Hey now, there's no need to cry about it. She died ages ago," he protested awkwardly, feeling uncomfortable with such a display of sympathy.

"Does that make it any less painful to remember?" She asked, raising her eyes to meet his gaze. It suddenly dawned on him that she was sharing his grief at a very personal level. She too had lost a lifelong friend and loved one. He considered her question for a moment. Perhaps, had the circumstances revolving around Calandra's death been different, the pain would have eased over the years. But he'd never forgiven himself for her death, and his recent flashbacks had stirred up the potent feelings of grief and and guilt all over again.

"Not really," he admitted.

"I didn't think so," she murmured.

They finished the meal shortly thereafter, and together they cleared the tabled and washed the plates and baking tools. Envy agreed to accompany her to the barn again for morning chores, and so they set out immediately upon finishing the dishes. The trek to the barn was much less strenuous than it had been the day before; likely because he didn't attempt to sprint the whole way. The work which began upon their arrival, however, more than made up for it. Leah refused to let him turn the horses out into their pens, insisting that he wasn't to go near them until he got some proper footwear.

"Getting stepped on is bad enough with shoes on, but without them it could break your foot," she told him sternly. Envy made no further attempts to argue with her and before long he was fully occupied with hauling water to fill the buckets in the stalls while Leah brought hay around to the outside horses. Then together they tackled the chore of mucking out the barn. Envy had to grudgingly admit that Leah wound up doing the majority of the work. She was far more efficient, and despite his returning strength, she still had better endurance than him. By the end of it he was exhausted; a fact that was enhanced by the minute drains upon his reserves from his powers repeatedly activating to heal the blisters forming on his hands from the unfamiliar work involving the wooden handles of pitch forks and shovels. The walk home seemed to drag on for miles.

Over the following days the two of them fell into a routine. Envy accompanied Leah to the barn twice a day to help with morning and evening chores. He began to lend a hand with housework and meal preparation, feeling the need to pay her back somehow for her kindness. As he grew stronger, he was able to spend less time napping and more time in Leah's company. He found she spent much of her free time reading, and while he could often talk her into playing cards or some other game, it was a hobby he eventually joined her in. She owned a number of books already, but she made regular trips into town to visit the library there. He found the history books that she brought back to be particularly fascinating. This world was incredibly similar to his own in some ways, but in others it was greatly different. The relative absence of alchemy, at least among the general population, astounded him, but it certainly explained why the red stones within him had ceased to function in their usual way. This world operated under different natural laws.

Although they continued to grow more comfortable with each other as the days passed, the strange tension between them which Envy had first felt that morning in the kitchen only continued to grow. Being around her was increasingly distracting, and judging by her reactions to him, he strongly suspected the feeling wasn't one-sided. This was a fact that puzzled him. His own feelings he could begin to understand, but he hadn't the slightest idea what reason _she_ had to be flustered by _him_.

Late one morning, they were finishing up barn chores. Leah slid the large door shut and reached up to pull the ribbon out of her hair, shaking her curls free with a sigh of relief.

"It's so humid today," she said. Envy glanced up at the sky where the clouds hung heavy and dark above them.

"Something tells me it's going to get a lot more humid in a few minutes," he replied. Leah glanced up as well, uneasiness flitting across her features. The air was sharp with the smell of rain and the wind was beginning to pick up.

"I think you're right. We should hurry."

Despite their brisk pace, they were only halfway home before the heavens opened up on them in a heavy deluge, made worse by the gusting wind. Leah gave a little shriek as the wall of rain hit them, cringing beneath the stinging onslaught of the cold drops. Envy sighed in resignation. How tedious. He glanced at his companion and found a mixed expression on her face. She wasn't any happier about being battered by wind and rain than he was. Then he acted on impulse. He reached out and grabbed her hand.

"Come on," he called above the dull roar of the storm. Without complaint, Leah followed after him as he broke into a sprint.

By the time they reach the house, they were drenched. Envy shut the door behind them, sagging back against it tiredly. Both of them were panting from the run, and the water rolling down their skin and dripping from their clothes was forming small puddles on the floor of the porch. Leah met his gaze. Her flushed cheeks, and her hair sticking to her neck and shoulders, painted a picture that was strangely familiar. As she stared at him, amusement fluttered into her expression and she giggled. Envy raised an eyebrow, puzzled by the reaction.

"What ?" He demanded.

"The expression on your face...and your hair." The giggles turned into laughter, which she attempted to smother unsuccessfully. He stared at her blankly, trying to decide whether or not he should be offended. "Sorry," she said, finally regaining control over herself and staring at him sheepishly. Something about the small, bashful smile, paired with grey eyes that were still dancing with amusement, stirred something inside him. The electric tension sprang up with redoubled potency. Something in his own expression must have changed, because the amusement in her eyes shifted to a strange sort of nervousness.

"Umm, I'll go get you some dry clothes. I know they won't fit well, but it'll give you something to wear while your outfit dries," she said, turning swiftly and walking away. Envy's gaze followed her, the springing lightness of her steps inexplicably holding his attention. After a moment he pushed off the door and followed slowly after her.

He found her going through a box of clothes in the laundry room. There was a look of concentration on her face as she dug through the various shirts and trousers. Finally she settled on one of each and straightened up, toeing the box back under the shelf. Several quick steps brought her to where he stood in the doorway.

"Here, these are the best I could find. You can change in my room if you want. I'm going to light the fireplace," she said, handing him the clothes before stepping around him and departing down the hall. He glanced back at her retreating form for a moment, then turned and made for her room.

As it turned out, the trousers had a drawstring, so while they were a tad too long, they still clung to his hips in a satisfactory manner. The shirt was a short-sleeved button up. If he'd fastened it up properly he would have been swimming in it, so he left it unbuttoned. He exited the room and grabbed a towel from the washroom, using it to squeeze the excess moisture out of his hair. Then he made his way back down the hall to the living room.

There he found Leah crouched before the fireplace, watching the small flame there as it flickered and took hold of the dry tinder she'd skillfully arranged on the hearth. As he came to a stop beside her, she glanced up at him. He raised an eyebrow at her critically.

"What?" She asked uncertainly.

"You look cold," he replied. Her dress was dark with moisture, clinging damply to her frame.

"I'm alright," she assured him, rising to her feet. In the firelight he could see the goosebumps covering her arms. "I'll just put the kettle on." She made to brush past him but he reached out and caught her arm.

"Leah," he said. She hesitated, turning back towards him. Her skin was cool beneath his hand.

"Yes?" She asked. Something in her eyes took him off guard. There was a wistfulness there, as if wishing for something she didn't think was possible. Suddenly the words he'd been about to say vanished from the tip of his tongue. The tension which had built up inside him give way to longing. It was not a feeling that he was accustomed to controlling. The next thing he knew he had pulled her into his arms and his lips met hers. Her willowy frame felt fragile in the circle of his arms, and her lips were soft beneath his. The kiss had been utterly impulsive, so when she stiffened and slid her hands up to his chest, he fully expected her to push him away. But to his surprise, she didn't. As if she was experiencing conflicting desires he felt her waver, and then relax under his touch. Her lips responded to his with only a slight hesitation. The cold touch of her hands resting on his bare chest made him shiver. He tightened his arms around her unconsciously. In response to this he felt her freeze up, stiffening again in his hold. He broke the kiss to look into her eyes, but didn't release her. Leah's eyes were wide, unguarded, vulnerable.

"What's wrong?" He murmured.

"Oh, Will," she whispered, her eyes sliding shut in a pained expression. Her words stole his breath away. The only person who had ever called him that had been Calandra. Her expression concerned him.

"What is it?" He asked. She shook her head.

"This isn't right," she replied. The pain written across her expression was audible in her voice. He blinked, the words hitting him like a blow. It had felt perfectly right to him. She pulled back from his grasp, leaving a cold emptiness in her place. His arms fell uselessly to his sides. A feeling of numbness settled over him. Seeing the look on his face, anxiety flooded into her expression and she hurried to speak. "Don't misunderstand. It's not… that I don't feel the same way," she stammered uneasily.

"What is it then?" His tone was stiff. She swallowed, breaking eye contact

"I'm falling for you because you remind me of my husband," she mumbled, refusing to meet his gaze. Envy stared at her, finding the startling statement rather difficult to believe.

"What's wrong with that?" Even if it was true, he didn't see why it mattered.

"You _aren't_ my husband," she protested. "I want to like you because of who you are, and I just don't know you well enough for that yet."

"If you knew me that well you wouldn't like me anyway," Envy muttered, a guarded look settling over his expression. As he turned to walk away she spoke again.

"If I didn't look like Calandra, would you still feel this way about me?" Her words brought up short. He glanced back at her, uncertainty flickering through his amethyst eyes. As she was now, her hair loose and damp, her eyes bright with emotion, she really was the spitting image of Calandra. He opened his mouth to respond but no words found their way to his lips. He didn't know what to say. The fact was, she _wasn't_ Calandra, and it was something he occasionally forgot. At his silence she bit her lip, glancing away.

"That's what I thought," she murmured. "I'm going to go get changed." She turned and walked away, disappearing down the hall. Envy stood staring after her. An oppressive silence settled over the room with her departure, broken only by the soft crackle of the flames as they slowly devoured the pine burning on the hearth, filling the room with its sharp scent. Finally he turned and plodded across the room, sinking down onto the couch to await her return. After a time he heard her steps approaching from the hall, and as she appeared he saw she'd changed into her pale green dress, but she turned and made her way into the kitchen without so much as glancing at him. After a moment it became clear she had no intention of returning to speak to him. Slowly he turned his gaze towards the fire, sinking into thought. A log popped and shifted, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney. The flickering light cast shadows around the room. Outside the rain drummed incessantly against the walls.

_If I didn't look like Calandra, would you still feel this way about me?_

When he stopped to think about it, he couldn't really fault her for her reaction. To have him fall for her because her appearance reminded him of someone else likely stung just as much as a flat out rejection. But was that really the root of his feelings for her? Setting appearance aside, there were distinct differences between Calandra and Leah. Not only that, he wasn't the same young man that had been so in love with Calandra before. Several centuries had passed since then. The monster might have been pushed aside, but the human in him, assuming there still was a human part of him, had not remained unchanged during that time. He was nearly 400 years old! Surely to heavens he was past being ruled by appearances. Then again, his heart had been locked away for the entire time. Could it have remained, for all these years, as immature as it had been at the time of William's death?

Unable to decide, he returned to pondering the two young women in question. The last week had allowed him a chance to study Leah in a way he'd never bothered to before. She was quieter than the childhood friend he remembered. Sweet as Calandra had been, sprightly and passionate described her better than gentle and thoughtful, which were the words he would pick to describe Leah. Calandra had sparkled with a youthful exuberance that Leah no longer possessed, if she had ever possessed it all. But, unlike Calandra, she was mature beyond her years, something that had assuredly been enhanced by the loss of her husband. Where Calandra had been wide open and trusting, Leah was hesitant and wary. She knew heartbreak in a way that Calandra never had, and that was something he could empathize with. Now that he was used to her, he enjoyed her company. There was a peace that came with being in her presence that he'd never before felt. Her serene contentment with life was catching. From what he remembered of Calandra, he suspected her personality would have started to grate on him by now. He really had changed. They simply weren't suited to each other anymore, and Calandra never would have put up with the abuse he'd put Leah through. Perhaps Leah's familiar appearance had been the spark that had kindled his feelings, but hers was the personality he was drawn to, not Calandra's. Didn't that count for anything?

Of course, then there was the business of Leah's feelings for him. It went without saying that he wasn't the same man as her husband. He found it hard to believe that he really had that many similarities with whoever the man had been, anyway. And in his current form he looked _nothing_ like the golden haired man in the photographs. But Leah was lonely, and if the last week had told him anything, it was that she was craving kindness and affection. If he'd wanted to manipulate her, he could have easily had her in the palm of his hand by now. Unlike many people, he suspected she was insightful enough to recognize this weakness for what it was. That would explain why she'd so quickly latched onto an excuse that invalidated her feelings for him. Perhaps there were a few similarities between her husband and himself, but her reluctance to give into her feelings was probably due to a fear that she was simply rebounding from her loss. It was certainly a valid concern and in a way he had to give her credit for recognizing it. But it left him in a difficult position. He doubted it was a concern he could talk her out of. And what business did he having trying to in the first place? She'd only taken him in to help him recover.

**Don't forget why you came here.**

Envy tensed in surprise at the voice which spoke up in his mind. It wasn't the same one he'd heard before. As persistent as it had been, that one had been soft, as unobtrusive as an unfamiliar voice in one's head could possibly be. This one was different. It was harsher, with an unmistakably caustic edge to it.

**Are you just going to sit here forever while Hohenheim goes on his merry way?**

At the name, Envy's gut clenched. That was right. He'd almost forgotten the single greatest reason that he'd passed through the gate in the first place. He was here to kill his father. Getting injured and stumbling across Leah had not been part of his plans. Neither had the rush of memories from his past that had swarmed him. His feelings for Leah had certainly changed dramatically during the time he'd spent under her care, but that was hardly any reason to abandon his quest. And besides, he couldn't linger on here indefinitely. He'd thought that maybe, just maybe... Well... It didn't matter now anyway. It had been a vague, and utterly unrealistic notion. The new voice was right. It was high time he returned to the mission he'd set out on weeks before.

The whistling of the kettle in the kitchen broke into his thoughts. His gaze moved towards the kitchen doorway. Shortly thereafter Leah walked in caring a steaming mug, which she offered to him without a word. The fact that she carefully avoided his gaze, and left the room immediately after, solidified the conviction forming in his mind. It was time for him to leave. Still... He glanced out the window, noting the rain still pelting the glass. There was no sense in setting out in the middle of a storm, and after spending so much time here, staying for another hour or so made little difference.

Leah had brought home a number of articles of leather equipment from the barn the previous day that were in need of cleaning and maintenance. He could hear the faint clink of metal buckles in the kitchen which meant she was occupied with that task. He absentmindedly sipped the mug she'd given him, not even aware of its flavor in his current state of mind. He plucked a book from the end table where he'd set it down earlier, and attempted to lose himself in it. It didn't work as well as it usually did, and what with the work that morning and the peaceful crackling of the fire, he eventually dosed off.

He awoke to the sound of the book hitting the floor. Apparently he'd shifted in his sleep and had dropped it. He reached up a hand to rub his eyes and sat up. The fire had burned down to coals, and the drumming of the rain had ceased. Out the window he could see the sun breaking through the clouds in shafts of light, gold against the grey sky. The storm had passed. He rose to his feet, a little surprised by the stiffness in his muscles. Judging by the state of the fire and how his body felt, he must have been out for several hours. 

He grabbed his half finished mug of now cold tea and took it into the kitchen, setting it in the sink. A saddle and other various pieces of leather were strewn on the table, showing the luster of having been freshly oiled, meaning Leah had finished with them. He glanced at the clock on the wall and noted the time. She must have already headed to the barn. If he left now, there was a chance he could get there in time to help her finish. Either way, he'd get a chance to talk to her about his plans. The sooner the better.

The outside air was fresh, the grass wet beneath his feet. He walked briskly, more sure with each step that the voice had been right. It was past time he left. He was as close to his original strength as he could hope to get without the power of the stones. He'd be able to take care of himself fine now that he understood the limitations he was under. He would just have to find a way to track down Hohenheim. His stomach clenched at the thought of the man. It sickened him. He was tired of living under the burden of that hatred. The sooner he got rid of his father, the better. Besides, he'd been living off of Leah's charity for far too long. The complication of their mistaken feelings for each other only convinced him that he'd overstayed his welcome. She would be better off finding someone else to be with. He wasn't the kind of person who could give her what she deserved. Four bloodstained centuries had killed the possibility of his ever being able to make someone else happy. He'd end up hurting her if he stayed any longer.

As he thought about it, the feeling began to creep in that perhaps it would be better for both of them if he simply left without saying goodbye. The words "clean break" echoed through his mind. Yes… Maybe that would be best. The idea of saying goodbye to her, face to face, was growing increasingly uncomfortable in his mind. He wasn't sure he had the heart for it. After what had taken place earlier, she would likely misunderstand his reasons for leaving and try to dissuade him, and the thought of trying to explain his reasons to her wasn't appealing.

With a heavy heart he reached the crest of the hill. He had just decided to turn back and set out instead towards the town when, casting a final look at the barn in the distance, he saw something that brought him up short. A horse was cantering towards him down the path. As it came closer he recognize it as the big, nosy pinto that Leah occasionally had to reprimand. It was haltered, the lead rope dragging behind it on the ground. Envy stared blankly at it as it approached, his brain taking longer than usual to process the implications. As it neared him, the horse came to an abrupt stop, sliding a little in the slick grass from its forward momentum. It was quivering, its head held high and its nostrils flared as it snorted warily, taking in his scent. In that instant everything came to a halt in Envy's mind.

_Her neck was broken when they found her…_

The remembered words rang in his ears--a terrifying prophecy.

"Leah," he whispered, eyes wide with shock. Then he broke into a sprint towards the barn.


	8. Chapter 8

The only thing Envy could hear was the wind whistling past him and the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. The ground flew beneath his feet. His gaze darted over the landscape, searching it desperately but terrified of what he might find

"Leah!" He called breathlessly as he reached the barn. He turned in a circle, scouring the premises for any sign of the young woman. The large sliding door was open and most of the horses were back in their stalls, peering out at him. Frustrated, he turned towards the pen which usually housed the pinto gelding. His heart came to a stop. There, in the grass by the rail fence, like some carelessly tossed aside doll, was the crumpled form of Leah.

Two heartbeats hammered past, and then he was running. As he reached her, he paused, unable to even breathe past the constriction of his chest. She was on her back, her head having fallen to the side, her eyes shut as if she were sleeping. The crimson stain spreading through her pale hair stood out alarmingly. Blood. He crouched next to her, putting out a hand to feel for a pulse, then freezing just short of touching her. He couldn't… He couldn't bear… If she was dead then… As he stared at her, his mind frozen in a web of fear and dread, his stomach twisting with anxiety as the horror of his past flooded into his present, bringing with it a feeling of suffocating despair, he saw, with the faintest of movement, her chest rise and fall. That one, tiny movement shattered his paralysis like breaking glass. In an instant he was feeling her neck, searching for a pulse. Her skin was warm beneath his fingers and a moment later he felt the flutter of life in her throat. Her neck, though he'd taken no notice of it at first, was at a perfectly normal angle. The blood worried him though. She must have hit her head on something ... the fence perhaps? Without further delay, he gathered her into his arms and set off back towards the house.

Getting through the front door with an unconscious girl in his arms proved challenging, but he finally managed to get the door open and brought her swiftly inside. He laid her carefully on the couch, and then stood staring down at her, hovering uncertainly. In his 400 years of existence, he'd maimed and killed countless times. He knew all of the most cruelly effective techniques for inflicting pain, and all the swiftest ways to end a life. But after all that time, he hadn't the slightest idea how to save one. She didn't show any sign of stirring. Then a thought occurred to him: this would be the best time to inspect the wound. And while he was at it, he should probably clean it. Humans were prone to infection, right? With this in mind, he set off in search of the necessary supplies.

A short time later he'd procured a basin of warm water and a cloth. He wasn't at all sure what would be appropriate to use as antiseptic. He vaguely remembered humans at one time using liquor to sanitize wounds, but he somehow doubted he'd find anything of the sort in Leah's home. He pulled up a chair to the couch and set the basin on the floor. Leah's eyes remained shut, her breathing slow and even. Envy leaned over her and slipped his fingers into her curls, feeling across her scalp with a gentleness he'd rarely ever used. He found the wound easily enough, since it had turned into a sizable lump, the blood already beginning to grow crusty in her hair. It wasn't a serious external wound--head wounds simply bled profusely. It was the possibility of internal injury that most concerned him. If she had a concussion, it wouldn't be surprising. But there was nothing he could do about that.

Using the dampened cloth, he sponged at the blood matting her hair and applied pressure to the wound for a time until the bleeding stopped completely. Then, setting aside the cloth and basin, he rose and gathered her into his arms once more before turning and making his way out of the room, down the hall to the bedroom. He settled her in the bed carefully, pulling the covers up over her. He hesitated a moment, wondering what he should do with himself. All thoughts of leaving had vanished from his mind. He couldn't leave her injured like this. Finally he decided upon a course of action. Going to the kitchen, he grabbed a chair and dragged it back to the bedroom, seating himself in it beside the bed while he awaited her wakening. As time passed, he found himself weighed down by fatigue. The adrenaline, the run, and the subsequent carrying of Leah back to the house had drained his energy. Finding his head uncomfortably heavy to hold up, he crossed his arms on the bed and rested it on them, intending only to take a momentary rest. Before long he'd slipped out of consciousness into sleep.

He was woken sometime later by a touch on his arm. Blinking groggily, he raised his head. The light from the window had faded to the dim haze of twilight. Leah was awake, staring at him with a puzzled expression on her face.

"What happened?" She asked. Envy sat up, now fully awake.

"I was going to ask you that. I found you unconscious just outside the barn." His tone was guarded. Leah raised a hand to her head, wincing as she gingerly touched her scalp.

"The last thing I remember was leading Phillip out to his pen. He must've spooked at something and knocked me into the fence."

"How do you feel?" Envy asked, anxiety colouring his tone.

"My head aches something awful and I feel a bit queasy," she admitted. Envy frowned.

"The damn horse probably gave you a concussion," he muttered.

"Did you catch him and put him back in his pen?" She asked swiftly. He raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"I was little more concerned about you bleeding in the grass then I was about the stupid horse," he retorted sharply. Her eyes widened in alarm.

"We have to go catch him!" She sat up abruptly. Then she made a pained sound, raising a hand to cover her eyes.

"What is it?!" Envy demanded in alarm.

"It's nothing. I'm just dizzy," she replied, wincing. She made as if to rise but Envy swiftly cut her off, grasping her shoulders carefully and pushing her back down.

"You aren't going anywhere," he told her fiercely, glaring down at her. Her eyes widened in surprise as she was pushed back against the pillows by force. Then her expression grew distraught.

"You don't understand! Those horses were entrusted to my care. They're my responsibility. I can't let anything happen to them! I have to go find him," she told him desperately. She struggled halfheartedly to sit up again but Envy was having none of it. He kept her firmly pinned down.

"I'm not letting you go anywhere near the damn thing again!" His voice came out harsher than he'd intended it, his eyes glittering with more emotion than he realized he was showing. Leah stared up at him, clearly taken off guard by his vehemence.

"Why are you so upset?" She asked, bewildered. He shut his eyes, clenching his jaw.

"Because I can't lose you. Not you too," he whispered. Leah blinked.

"Lose me?" She asked softly. "What are you talking about?"

"It doesn't matter. I don't want you leaving this bed." He opened his eyes, fixing her with a hard stare.

"But I'm fine," she protested.

"No, you aren't. You have a concussion. If I have to tie you up to keep you from going anywhere, I will." His tone made it clear he was dead serious.

"William!" Leah cried incredulously, "You're being ridiculous." She began to struggle to sit up again, raising her head as she squirmed against his hold, trying to push him off. He gave a low growl of irritation, sliding his hands down from her shoulders to grab her wrists, pinning both her arms back against the pillows, and then going so far as to rest his forehead against hers, using it to push her head back down against the pillows. Since the lump was on the side of her head, he was able to do this without fear of causing her further injury. Leah's eyes widened, a gasp escaping her lips. "W-William," she stammered, "Let me go!"

"Give me one good reason why I should," he retorted, not budging an inch. Their noses were brushing, their lips centimetres apart, but Envy was more concerned with the task of forcing her to remain still than he was about the intimacy of the situation. From her eyes, which were the only things he could currently see, it was plain that she was extremely uneasy with this solution to her struggling.

"I can't just leave him running around loose in the countryside. Someone has to catch him," she insisted, although her tone was halfhearted beneath the intense proximity of his gaze.

"That someone isn't going to be you," he replied firmly.

"Alright… I won't try to get up again. Please let me go," she mumbled.

"I don't believe you," he retorted. Her cheeks reddened and he felt her try to squirm back against the pillows, clearly seeking to put a little more space between their faces. He ignored this attempt, keeping his forehead pressed firmly against hers.

"William, this isn't appropriate," she protested weakly.

"Do I look like I care?" His tone was dry. She let out a soft huff, eyes growing reproachful.

"Why are you being so stubborn?" The question gave him pause. Why was he being this stubborn? Earlier he'd been intending to leave without even saying goodbye. Now he had her pinned down, refusing to let her move for fear of something worse happening to her. Leave? Who was he kidding? Even if he had left, he would have ended up turning around at some point and coming back to check on her--even if it was just a glance from a distance. Without intending it, he'd grown attached. How could he _not_ have grown attached? This girl was the only person in his current life who had ever treated him kindly. The thought of losing her was more than he could stand.

"Its complicated," he muttered, releasing her hands and pulling back to sit on the edge of the bed. His expression was brooding as he stared at the floor.

"Complicated how?" She asked, propping herself on her elbows as she watched his face curiously. Envy stared into space for a time, turning his response over in his mind. There was no pleasant way to say it. Even thinking the words brought a stab of guilt. But after his bizarre behavior, he figured she had the right to know. The only problem was that it would almost certainly give her the wrong impression of his feelings.

"Calandra broke her neck in a riding accident after I upset her." The words were blunt. Leah's eyes widened.

"Oh..." Her lips formed the exclamation, but hardly a sound left them. He saw a mixed expression pass over her features and his hand clenched into a fist on the bedspread.

"Look, that's part of why I was worried. But it wasn't Calandra I was afraid of losing," he told her stiffly. His gaze as it moved to rest on her was heavy, resigned to the fact that his words weren't at all convincing, but wishing she could see that he meant what he was saying. The faintest of frowns creased her brow.

"William..." she began, but he cut her off by rising to his feet.

"It doesn't matter," his tone was crisp. "I'll go catch the thing myself. But I don't want you leaving this bed," he fixed her with a severe stare. The bewildered surprise that flitted across her expression was swiftly chased away by gratitude.

"I won't, I promise," she told him solemnly. He turned to leave, but was stopped when she reached out and caught his wrist. "William." He glanced down at her. She was staring at him, a confused, searching look in her eyes."I..." she began, but she trailed off, appearing to lose her nerve. Her gaze darted nervously to the side before meeting his eyes again. "Thank you," she told him finally. He stared at her for a moment, feeling certain that wasn't at all what she'd been about to say to him, but finally he nodded. Whatever it was, she could tell him later. He turned and her hand fell from his wrist as he walked away.

Although the remaining light was fast fading from the sky, luck appeared to be on his side. When he arrived back at the barn he found that the miscreant creature had found its way back to its companions and was grazing outside the open barn door. Envy approached it cautiously, his aggravation with the animal tempered by the knowledge that if he spooked it he'd have a heck of a time trying to catch it again. Its brown and white coat was spattered with grime, traces of sweat streaking its neck from all of the wild racing around it had done. It raised its head to stare at him, ears pricked forward curiously as it munched a mouthful of fresh green grass. Envy came to a stop. After looking him over for a moment, it seemed to conclude that he posed no threat and that the grass was much more important. It went back to grazing. Letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, Envy began to walk towards it again slowly. As he did, the horse turned away from him and walked away several steps before continuing to graze. Envy paused, then took two more steps forward. The horse promptly moved again. Not far. Just enough to keep the same amount of space between them. This continued each time Envy tried to approach it. The lazy, unconcerned manner of the horse as it continued to avoid him was utterly infuriating.

"Listen, you, if it was my choice, you'd have been carrion food by now. Keep this up and you may still be," Envy growled under his breath, glaring daggers at the creature. It flicked its ears in his direction and swished its tail, but continued grazing unconcernedly. The lead rope hanging from its halter was lying uncomfortably close to its hooves. Envy eyed the rope calculatingly. It was slick with mud from dragging through the wet grass, so it might prove challenging to keep a grip on. Even so, his patience was wearing thin. The repetitive sound of grass tearing from the ground with each bite the horse's teeth took was grating on his nerves. It took another step forward, nose not even lifting from the grass. With an exasperated exclamation Envy lunged forward and snatched up the lead rope from the ground near its hooves. The horse gave a half-hearted leap to the side and tossed its head as it came against the new weight on the end of the rope. Envy staggered slightly and almost fell on his face thanks to the slipperiness of the still wet grass, but he clung to the damp fibers of the rope with a grip of iron. The horse snorted and stood staring at him stiffly for a moment, still keeping pressure on the rope. When it became clear Envy had no intention of budging an inch, the creature quieted and eventually returned to the opinion that the grass was far more important than the odd humanoid that had been incessantly stalking it. It slowly lowered its nose and began to nibble, but this time it kept an eye fixed on its captor. Envy stared at it, feeling at a loss as to how he should proceed.

"Alright, come on." He tugged the line half heartedly. He might as well have been tugging a rock for all the impression it made. The horse ignored him. Envy rolled his eyes and gave the rope a yank. Up came the horse's head, and it stared at him, continuing to chew the food in its mouth. "Lets go already," he growled, taking a step back and pulling on the rope. It stiffened its neck and planted its hooves, not budging an inch. "You have got to be kidding me," he cried in exasperation. With a wash of frustration he threw his whole weight back against the lead rope. The horse took one step forward, slackening the line just enough for Envy's feet to slip out from under him, sending him sprawling on his back.

He lay for a moment, staring up at the darkening sky and marveling at the utter absurdity of the entire situation. A moment later he heard the sound of the horse grazing again. A sigh of resignation escaped his lips. This wasn't going the way he'd thought it would. He'd never seen any of the horses, even this one, give Leah problems like this. Then again, they all seemed to like her. It was probably because she fed them. At this, a somewhat bizarre thought entered his mind. This big, difficult herbivore, that had taken it into its head to make his life difficult, actually shared something in common with him. Leah looked after this creature in much the same way that she had looked after Envy, save that she was much firmer in her handling of the horse than she was her guest. She had a way of adjusting her behavior with each of the horses to match their individual personalities and quirks. Her intuitive knowledge of what attitude to take with her various charges allowed her to maintain as peaceful and pleasant a relationship with them as possible; and he, Envy, had been no exception. He had surrendered himself to Leah's care, in part, because she had been willing to feed and look after him without expecting anything in return. But what had made the arrangement work, aside from the flashbacks which had tempered his cruelty, was her meek altruism and her seemingly endless supply of patience. Had she taken any other attitude toward him she very likely would have lost her life at his merciless hands. And had he done away with her in those first few days, he more than likely would have wound up dead as well, unable to look after or defend himself against the aggression of humans less charitable than Leah. 

A frown creased his brow. Her treatment of the horses he could understand, though her insistent concern for the creature that had put her in her current state exasperated him. It was her job to look after these creatures, and she was paid for her efforts. But she would receive no such compensation for looking after _him_ \--a sour, embittered creature who had done his best to make her miserable. She had even gone as far as to offer forgiveness for his treatment of her, though he could see absolutely no reason for her to do so. She had claimed that she'd taken him in out of loneliness, but he could think of no one in their right mind who, after discovering the nature of the company they'd taken in, would have allowed him to remain with them for long. She was an enigma to him. All at once the determination to get the answer out of her for her inexplicable kindness washed over him and he resolved to make a point of asking her at the nearest opportunity. But before he did that, he had a horse to catch.

He sat up, bringing his gaze to rest on the creature who had, as if to taunt him, been slowly migrating towards him as it grazed, flaunting its ability to thwart any effort he made to capture it. He pursed his lips thoughtfully, unsure of how to proceed. His thoughts turned towards all he had learned over the past week regarding the handling of horses. At that moment a light bulb went on over his head and he resisted the urge to slap his forehead in exasperation over how long it had taken him to come up with the idea. He carefully scrambled to his feet, taking care not to startle the irksome animal, and headed back to the barn. After a moment of digging around in the feed room he reemerged with a bucket of grain in his hands. He shook it once and the pinto horse's head shot up as if he'd fired a gun. It stared at him a moment, appearing almost perplexed that the enticing sound had come from the strange, stalking humanoid, rather than a more familiar individual. Envy shook the bucket again. The horse needed no further convincing. It nickered in anticipation and sprang into a trot towards him, only stopping when it was close enough to make him fear that he'd end up being trampled. He jerked the bucket away to prevent the eager nose from plunging into it with enough force that he would have staggered under the weight of it. The grain rattled noisily in the confines of the container, the sound reaching the ears of the occupants already safely stowed in their stalls. Several whinnies echoed down the barn isle, along with a good deal of nickering and the sharp racket created by hooves pawing at stall doors. Envy seized hold of the horse's lead rope as the creature attempted to weave around him to get at the bucket now hidden behind his back.

"Alright, you, come on," he turned and made for the barn door, holding the bucket out to the side with his freehand and shaking it enticingly. This time the horse followed with no protest. In fact, in its eagerness to get at the bucket Envy found himself having to jog to keep ahead of it. They entered the barn and clattered down the isle, the creature's hooves clopping loudly on the cement in the confined space. Plunging into the last free stall, Envy dropped the bucket carelessly to the ground and struggled to remove the creature's halter while it fought impatiently to bury its nose in the bucket. Finally he succeeded, and after jerking the bucket away from the creature and emptying its contents on the stall floor to be swiftly gobbled up, he left the stall and shut the door behind him. There was little to do in the way of evening chores once the horses were brought inside, save for doling out whatever grain each of them required to supplement the hay already placed in their stalls during morning chores. Envy completed this task swiftly, much to the delight of the barn's occupants. With that finished and a final look around, he slid the barn door shut and set off towards Leah's home. Stars were beginning to twinkle above him and the night wind was warm. Despite the gathering gloom, Envy had little difficulty finding his way. In the distance he could see the lights of the house and he felt a warmth that was curiously mixed with anxiety blossom in his chest at the thought of the young woman awaiting his return.

**This is a mistake.**

The voice from earlier hissed in his mind. Envy frowned. It was right. His heart was growing dangerously soft, ripe for being broken by either loss or rejection. But he found, as the image of the girl arose in his mind, that he simply didn't care. He wanted answers from her. But more than that, he wanted to prevent further harm from coming to her. The only thing he could do now was ensure her safety and bear whatever result came of his affection for her--for he little doubted there would be consequences.


	9. Chapter 9

Upon arriving home, Envy found that Leah's eyes had slipped shut and she didn't stir when he entered the room. It gave him a momentary stab of horror before he realized that she was, in fact, soundly asleep, and not dead. He woke her, wanting to insure that she hadn't slipped into a coma.

"Did you manage to catch him?" She asked, blinking at him sleepily as he stared down at her.

"Eventually," he muttered.

"Did he give you a hard time?" Her eyes opened fully.

"No," he lied, swiftly taking on a more confident tone. She watched him for a moment, and then he saw her lips twitch into what on anyone else would have been called a smirk, but on her features was closer to a knowing smile.

"Right," her tone was dry.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" He demanded, abruptly changing the subject and holding up four fingers in front of her face. There was no way he would ever admit just how much trouble he'd really had.

"Four," she replied, and then her smirk widened, "Five if I count your bruised ego." Envy's eyebrows shot up.

"Excuse me?" His voice came out as a squawk. Leah laughed softly.

"If you intend to cover up the fact that you had problems, you should probably start by washing the mud off yourself in advance," she informed him, eyes dancing with amusement. He stared at her, dumbfounded. She had a very good point. It hadn't even occurred to him that his hands and arms were streaked with mud from grabbing at the grimy lead rope, and that falling on his back had left blades of grass sticking to his skin and out of his hair in random places. Then he raised his chin, regathering what little of his dignity still remained, unknowingly bearing great resemblance to a bedraggled feline attempting to appear cool and composed after making an ungraceful blunder.

"Nothing happened. I just slipped."

"Are you alright?" She asked, her skeptical amusement tinged with faint concern.

"I'm fine," he replied briskly.

"Thank you for doing that," her expression grew earnest. He waved off her gratitude.

"I think I'll go have a bath now," he said, turning and departing as she chuckled softly.

After his bath, Envy continued to wake Leah every hour or so throughout the night, more because of his own paranoia than because of any knowledge that such care was customary for patients suffering from concussions. When morning arrived, he'd quite forgotten his initial intention to question her about the treatment he'd received at her hands. Instead, he absolutely refused to let her get up, and made breakfast himself and brought it to her. He continued such behavior throughout the day, and insisted upon handling barn chores himself. Leah tolerated his unusual fluttering over her with a patient bemusement. It was an ironic role reversal, given his desire only several weeks earlier to kill her as soon as possible. The only difference was, she was a far more pleasant patient and he a much tenser, highly overprotective caregiver. The accident had instilled in him a fear of losing her that made him testier than he'd been in days, leading to his snapping at her whenever he felt she had overstepped the bounds that her condition had imposed on her. When he attempted to repeat this restrictive behavior the second day, Leah rebuked him with gentle firmness.

"William," she said, grasping both of his wrists when he moved to prevent her from getting out of bed. "I'm not going to die from getting up and moving around. You can't keep me prisoner in this bed forever." He stared at her flatly, half tempted to prove her wrong. Unfortunately, there was a stubbornness in her eyes that he hadn't seen since the night she'd confronted him about Calandra. He had a feeling he wouldn't be winning this particular argument. "Now, unless you intend to physically pin me down for the rest of the day, I'm going to get up." Her tone was definite.

"Maybe I will," he muttered, expression shifting to a sulky glower at the firmness of her tone. She sighed, staring at him with eyebrows raised skeptically. A resigned huff escaped his lips, and he drew back in defeat, allowing her to sit up and slide her legs out of bed. She sat for a moment, pointing her toes and swinging her legs to shake off the stiffness. Then she slowly rose to her feet. He watched her, as tense as a compressed spring. When she swayed unsteadily, experiencing the typical dizziness that resulted from rising after an extended time in a prone position, he immediately grabbed her to prevent her falling. Her cheeks colored, presumably from the proximity.

"William," she protested, "I'm fine." She pushed him away, seeming flustered by his hypervigilance.

Despite her repeating this statement a number of times, he spent the next half hour hovering around her as if she was prone to frequently collapsing for no apparent reason and required someone nearby to catch her when she did. She resigned herself to this behavior with slight exasperation. Eventually he was forced to accept that such attentiveness was unnecessary, but he still refused to let her out of his sight. In his mind's eye he saw her growing dizzy and collapsing, hitting her head again with disastrous consequences or falling on something sharp. Unfamiliar as he was with the feeling of anxiety for another person, it caused the tables and chairs to appear as potential murderers, and even the edges of carpets and ornamental baseboards became mortal enemies conspiring to trip her. Thankfully the day progressed without any of these imagined calamities taking place, and he slowly began to relax.

Leah improved quickly and after several more days they slipped back into their usual routine. Envy remained ever alert, stepping in and taking over any job he felt was still too strenuous for her. She tolerated this with resigned patience. To his relief, she seemed quite content with overlooking the move he'd made on her earlier in the week, and so little to no awkwardness from it persisted in their relationship. That said, his feelings for her did not recede. The accident had only served to drive them home further. Leaving was no longer an option.

One morning their usual routine was broken. Envy was seated in the kitchen, lost in thought as he stared out the window. The landscape was lit with early morning light but the rays had not yet reached the level at which they spilled through the windowpane in golden pools. He was roused from his reverie by the realization that Leah would normally be starting breakfast preparations by now. She hadn't yet left her room. He waited a short time longer, watching the seconds-hand tick on the clock over the door, but still she made no appearance. He frowned, wondering what was taking her. She'd never overslept in as long as he'd known her. He'd noticed she'd been acting a little subdued the night before, but he had assumed she was probably just tired. Had she gotten sick?

Concerned, he rose to his feet and made his way down the hall. Her door was shut. He knocked cautiously, but received no answer. Frowning deeper, he debated internally over what course of action to take. Finally, concern outweighed uncertainty and he grasped the handle, turning it and opening the door slowly. He peered into the room. His eyes widened. Leah was seated on the bed, still clothed in her nightgown and with hair still mussed from sleep. Her arms were wrapped about herself, her head bowed so that her curls had fallen forward to hide her face. She looked as if the weight of the world was bearing down on her slender frame, doing its best to slowly crush her.

"Leah?" At the sound of his voice, she looked up at him and he saw that her cheeks were stained with tears. From her eyes it seemed as if she was staring at him from a long distance away, an uncrossable canyon stretching between them that left her beyond his reach. Alarm washed through him. "What is wrong?" He demanded, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him. The utterly dismal expression on her face filled him with anxiety. She stared at him dully, as if having trouble finding the words to respond.

"It's his birthday," she whispered finally, gaze drifting away from his face to rest on the floor. Envy's brow furrowed.

"Who's birthday?" He asked, puzzled.

"Edmund's." The name sounded hollow on her lips. Envy stared at her.

"Who?" he asked. Though he already suspected the answer, he wanted to confirm it.

"My husband." He saw her bite her lip and her shoulders shook with a repressed sob. His expression was grim as he started across the room. He sank down on the bed next to her, and without any hesitation he reached out and pulled her into his arms. She made no objection to his embrace, and instead clung to him. The sobs she'd been struggling to contain finally found their way out. His heart clenched as she trembled in his arms, her pain striking an emotional chord within him, stirring up his own remembered grief. She cried until her tears were utterly spent and her sobs faded away into silence. Even then, she made no attempt to pull away, seeming content to remain within the circle of his arms.

"It's my fault," she spoke up finally, her voice wavering. Envy frowned, glancing down at the top of her head and waiting for some clarification. "On the day that he died we got into an argument," she said finally. "I can't even remember what it was about, but it was something petty. I snapped at him, and he stormed out... We didn't fight often, but when we did he'd always leave and go somewhere to cool down. But that day…" Her voice broke and it took a moment for her to regather herself. Then she continued. "That day there was an automobile accident in town. He just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. If I hadn't lost my temper with him he never would've been there in the first place, and he wouldn't have been hit." Her voice broke again and she went silent, fighting to hold back more tears. Envy tightened his arms around her, resting his head against hers. There was nothing he could say that would ease her pain, so he chose to remain silent. He could hardly imagine Leah ever snapping at anyone, but grief and the passing of time rarely left a person unchanged. Eventually she shifted and raised her head to look at him.

"I'm sorry," she began, but he silenced her by resting a finger against her lips.

"Don't apologize," he told her sternly. She swallowed hard, and he could see her fighting to reign in her emotions. He itched to wipe away the tears staining her cheeks, but resisted the urge, reluctant to overstep his boundaries while she was in such a state."You should come and have something to eat," he suggested.

"I'm not hungry," she mumbled.

"Come anyway," he retorted, rising to his feet. She stared up at him reluctantly. "Unless you want me to carry you." At this threat she sighed softly, but rose to her feet and followed after him to the kitchen.

Leah sat at the table at first while he began to prepare something for them to eat, but eventually her usual tendencies fought past her grief. She rose and crossed the room to him where he was buttering toast.

"I can help," she told him.

"And I can cartwheel around the room while singing something obnoxious." This dry retort caused her eyes to widen in bewilderment. He glanced at her. "But I don't feel like it," he added.

"I'm... not quite sure what that has to do with anything..." Her tone was uncertain.

"Just because you _can_ do something, doesn't mean you have to. Go sit down," he ordered, finishing with the toast and moving to flip the eggs sizzling on the skillet. She watched him for a moment, seemingly at a loss as to what to do. Finally she obeyed.

Shortly thereafter, Envy brought her a steaming plate of food and a fork, which she took mechanically and set down in front of her. As Envy sat down with his own meal across the table he observed that she was simply sitting and staring down at it. He chewed the inside of his cheek thoughtfully, wondering what to do about her. Finally he cleared his throat. She glanced up at him. He raised his fork up in front of him.

"See this?" He asked. She nodded. "This is a fork." The obviousness of this statement made the bewildered look return to her expression. "You hold it like this," he demonstrated, "And you use it to cut off a bit of egg," he did so, "And then you stab it." He performed this particular action with a certain amount of difficulty due to the slipperiness of the egg, muttering at it in annoyance as it repeatedly evaded his fork. This behavior deviated so far from his usual cool composure that Leah raised a hand to cover her mouth, hiding the faintest beginnings of a smile. "And then," he declared, having finally triumphed over the task, "You put it in your mouth and chew it." He did so, and then hastened to add, "The egg, not the fork. Chewing the fork does not work well." The gravity with which he delivered this insight, staring at her with a solemnity that bordered on ludicrous given the situation, finally broke through Leah's defenses. He saw the corners of her eyes crinkle in amusement and an almost inaudible giggle reached his ears, despite her hand smothering it. Envy's lips pulled into a rare smile, satisfied by the reaction. "Now, you try it," he told her. Lowering her hand from her mouth, she picked up her fork and obeyed, her aura noticeably lightened. The meal continued in companionable silence. When they finally finished, Envy rose, taking both their plates over to the sink.

"I can wash those," she said, rising to her feet and approaching the sink. "You cooked the meal. It's only fair." He turned to stare at her skeptically. She smiled faintly at the look on his face. "Honestly, I'm alright. It's just," she swallowed, "This is the first birthday since he's been gone. It hit me harder than I expected." Her gaze grew heavy and he saw her shoulders droop slightly.

"Its alright. I'll do it," he said, turning back to the sink. Knowing she was about to protest, he seized on the first thought that entered his mind and cut her off. "I've been meaning to ask you something," he said. At this, Leah's objection was stymied.

"Ask me what?" He could hear the faint surprise in her voice. She stepped up to the counter beside him and leaned against it, watching his hands move over the plates under the stream of water.

"Why have you treated me the way you have?" He asked quietly, remaining focused on his task rather than turning to look at her. She didn't answer him. When at last he finished and shut the tap off, snatching a towel from the counter to dry his hands, he turned to look at her. The former sadness in her gaze had been chased away by thoughtfulness. He raised an eyebrow. "Well?" At his question she slowly shook her head, something close to wonder in her eyes.

"Has no one ever treated you kindly?" She asked.

"No." His blunt response seemed to shock her. Her eyes widened.

"How old are you?" She demanded, as if somehow a shorter lifespan could explain such an unthinkable absence of tenderness in his life. He chuckled.

"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me," he informed her. She frowned in puzzlement.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I'm not exactly human." His tone was bland. How he was able to impart this information to her so casually, he wasn't entirely sure. Of anyone he could tell it to, she was the least likely to react adversely, and it would most certainly distract her from her grief. She leaned away from him slightly, her expression growing bewildered.

"I'm not sure what you mean," she said. He shook his head, propping an elbow on the counter as he leaned against it.

"It doesn't really matter. How old do you think I am?" He asked, dryly amused. She frowned, clearly puzzled, but cocked her head, observing him thoughtfully.

"I... don't know," she admitted after a moment of scrutinizing him. "I would say you're no older than me, but for your eyes." At this rather cryptic statement he raised an eyebrow.

"My eyes?" They were certainly unique, but what that had to do with his age, he hadn't the slightest idea.

"They were the first thing I noticed about you," she said. "In that first week, even when you weren't trying to burn a hole through me with them, they were so listless and cynical. It was like you'd seen everything there was to see in the world and none of it held any interest for you. It was incredibly sad." Her own eyes were grave as she spoke. "Even now, when you think I'm not looking, there's a weariness in them I don't understand."

For the briefest of moments Envy's eyes betrayed his shock at her words, but then they slipped shut and he let out a soft, humorless laugh.

"Four-hundred years of existence does tend to have that effect on a person," he muttered. The dryness of his tone veiled a deeper emotion which her words had stirred up. It brought back echos of the futility and meaninglessness of everything that had always haunted his thoughts. Leah's eyes widened.

"You aren't saying..." She trailed off, clearly thinking she must have misunderstood him somehow. Opening his eyes to meet her gaze, he smiled faintly.

"I wasn't kidding when I said you wouldn't believe me."

"But...how can you look so young?" she stammered, disbelief written across her face. He shrugged.

"An ageless appearance isn't all that special, really. But this isn't what I used to look like." This statement took her further off guard.

"What do you mean?" She frowned.

"Exactly what I said. I used to be tall and blond," he said. His nonchalant words apparently left her speechless. She was staring at him wide eyed.

"I... I don't know what to say," she said finally, seeming rather lost.

"You don't have to say anything," he smirked at her expression. "It's not as if I can prove any of it to you. I'm either lying, crazy, or telling the truth. You're free to believe whatever you choose."

"Well," she began, and then stopped, narrowing her eyes at him as if making an effort to figure him out. "I... can't imagine why you'd lie about something like this," she said finally, "And I don't believe you're crazy..." Her tone was a little uncertain. He chuckled, knowing she still didn't believe him.

"You never did answer my question," he pointed out.

"Your question?" She stared at him blankly, clearly having trouble keeping up with the unexpected turns of the conversation. He noted with satisfaction that all signs of the pain and grief she'd displayed earlier had been utterly swept away by puzzlement over his outlandish claims.

"Why have you treated me the way you have?" He repeated the question. She blinked, taking a moment to process the question.

"How could I treat you otherwise?" She asked finally.

"You told me yourself that if you handed me over to other humans they'd probably kill me," he pointed out. "What makes you so different from them?" This question appeared to be a difficult one for her to answer. She reached up to rub her forehead.

Well," she frowned thoughtfully at the floor, as if she'd never stopped to consider her own motives. "You're supposed to love your neighbor as you love yourself," she said finally, meeting his gaze, "So I was trying to love you." The innocent sincerity in her words took him off guard. His mind reeled with the implications and his pulse spiked, serving as an uncomfortable reminder of his feelings for her. Even so, from her tone and expression he gathered that she likely wasn't using the words in the way he would have hoped. It was a moment before he found the words to respond coherently.

"I'm pretty sure Calandra loved me, but even she wouldn't have put up with what you did," he told her finally, unconvinced.

"Perhaps her definition of love was different from mine," she replied quietly.

"What's your definition?" He asked. She bit her lip, gaze shifting to stare into space as she mulled over how to answer.

"It's being patient and kind, not envious or boastful, arrogant or rude. It's not insisting on your own way, not being irritable or resentful. To bear all things, believe all things, hope all things, endure all things... That's what I think it means to love someone." There was a soft smile on her face as she appeared to recall something from distant memory. 

Envy stared at her, at a loss for words. If that's what she thought love meant... then there was simply no way he could ever love her in the way she deserved. It just wasn't possible.

"Well...I think you were pretty successful in that attempt." When he finally spoke his subdued tone caught her attention.

"What's wrong?" She asked, concern creasing her brow. He shook his head.

"I think most humans would be hard pressed to live up to that standard, let alone me," his tone was resigned, tinged with bitterness. Surprise passed over her features and she wavered a moment, likely taken off guard by his use of the word "human."

"No one can ever fully meet up to that standard," she assured him. "No one is perfect. It's just what you're supposed to aim for." Earnestness had entered her tone. His lips quirked in a slight smile.

"Its tough to aim if you've never even held a bow or seen an arrow before," he commented dryly. She blinked, and then raised an eyebrow at his metaphor.

"But the only way you'll ever get better is if you try. No one starts out as a master bowman. It takes practice," she pointed out.

"No kidding. Well, I guess I've given you plenty of that," he muttered. Regardless of how patient she was, he certainly hadn't made her kindness easy for her.

"Well," her gaze darted to the side nervously. "Maybe at first," she mumbled, turning away to absentmindedly rearrange some of the spices that were kept out on the counter. He blinked.

"Huh?" At his puzzlement he noticed her cheeks color slightly

"It...hasn't exactly been challenging lately..." she admitted reluctantly, shooting a nervous glance at him before looking away again quickly. He cocked an eyebrow at her flustered behavior.

"Not challenging?" He asked.

"I think I'd better head into town and pick up some of the groceries we're running low on," she told him abruptly, turning back towards him with a neutral expression. His eyes widened.

"Did you really just try to change the subject?" His tone was colored with incredulous amusement.

"Yes," she retorted. Her tone was unconcerned but her cheeks were still very red, and rather than looking at him she'd suddenly become fascinated with the task of picking stray pieces of lint off her dress. His lips pulled into a smirk. Apparently she hadn't been kidding when she'd admitted she was starting to fall for him. Whether her reluctance to commit to anything would go away, he didn't know. At the very least, it was reassuring to see his feelings weren't entirely one-sided.

"You can't dodge the question forever," he pointed out dryly.

"Watch me," she retorted flippantly, though her tone was congenial. She turned and grabbed her purse from one of the unused kitchen chairs. "I'll be back in a while," she said, heading out of the room.

"Alright," he smiled knowingly, staring after her.

~~~~~***~~~~~

Envy was sprawled on the couch, a book in his hand when she returned. He glanced up as the door opened and saw Leah walk in. There was a brown paper bag of groceries in her arms. Something about the way she moved as she turned to shut the door grabbed his attention. She was moving slowly, reluctantly, almost as if she was making her way to her own funeral.

"Is something wrong?" He demanded, sitting up. She stood facing the closed door, not turning to look at him. "Leah?" He frowned.

"William... I..." When she finally turned to look at him his breath caught in his throat. Her eyes were wary, her lips pressed together in a thin line. He'd never seen such an expression on her face. It was a look of dread. He rose to his feet.

"What happened?" He demanded sharply. She let out a shaky breath, gaze darting away from his as she tightened her hold on the bag in her arms, as if it were a lifeline for her to cling to.

"I met someone in town today," she told him finally. Her voice was hollow.

"And?"

"They mistook me for Calandra," she said, her gaze meeting his. Envy stared at her. Slowly his eyes widened. "We started talking, but when I mentioned you... William, he said he was your father... And he said that he was the man you wanted to kill." She sounded pained. Envy stood perfectly still, not even breathing. Leah swallowed. "He's just passing through on his way to Munich, but he said he wants to see you. He asked me to tell you he'll be waiting for you." Her tone was reluctant.

**Hohenheim of Light. What a fool.**

The voice growled eagerly in his mind. It was right. What on earth could Hohenheim want with him? Didn't he know that a meeting with his eldest son could result in nothing short of his demise? Envy's hands clenched into fists. He had not expected this. He'd gone so far as to put the man out of his mind, knowing that to chase him down he'd have to leave Leah behind. But now here his father was, practically on his doorstep, _wanting_ him to go to him. How could he refuse?

"Where?" With just a single word he managed to convey the depth of his emotion, the edge to his voice as sharp as a knife. Leah's eyes widened.

"William, please," she began. His aggravation level had immediately spiked at the mention of his father, and her tone only served to heighten it further.

"Where is he?" He snapped, his violet gaze an icy glare. She shrank back against the door, well aware that something had shifted in his mindset. Envy threw the book in his hand aside and stalked towards her. "Tell me. _Now_ ," he hissed. She flinched, unable to meet his gaze. He clenched his jaw in frustration. Why was she behaving like this? Why couldn't she just spit it out already? "Leah," his voice was forcefully even. "Answer me."

"If I do, will you kill him?" She asked quietly. He gritted his teeth, fists clenching tighter. At his silence she finally looked up into his eyes. Whatever she read there caused her to shrink back further with a shudder. "Will you kill me if I don't tell you?" She whispered. Envy blinked, feeling suddenly taken aback. His head spun, a strange sort of tug-of-war taking place in his consciousness. He'd been caught up in the heat of his emotions, but hadn't had any intention of harming her. What had made her think he would?

"I just want you to tell me where he is. Is that so hard?" He growled. Something flickered behind her grey eyes.

"He's waiting for you in the old gymnasium. It's the largest building in the west end of town. You can't miss it," she said. He felt a prick of satisfaction. After the time he'd spent fending for himself in the town a few weeks back, he knew exactly where the building was.

"Move," he ordered. She was leaning back against the door.

"You don't have to do this." Her eyes were wide, pleading.

"Yes, I do," he told her curtly. She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears.

"If you do, it'll destroy everything." Her distress took him aback.

"What are you talking about?" He snapped, eyes flashing with annoyance.

"I can't stop you," she whispered, "But if you kill him... You won't be welcome here anymore." Despite conviction behind the words, the tears in her eyes spilled down her cheeks as if every word had been ripped from her in the most agonizing way possible. His eyes widened in surprise, the declaration taking him off guard.

**Who cares. She doesn't matter.**

He wavered, the pain in her expression still striking a chord inside him past the hatred stirred up by his father. He didn't want to hurt her. But he'd waited too long for this opportunity to pass it up now. He had no choice. He had to do this.

"Then I guess this is goodbye," his voice sounded icy in his own ears, the regret which stabbed through him remaining invisible beneath the hard mask over his features. She drew in a sharp breath, eyes widening as if he'd slapped her.

**Get moving already!**

The voice snapped. Envy swallowed back the guilt, seizing hold of the old hatred inside him and pulling it around himself like a cloak of anger and bitterness. He reached out and pushed Leah out of the way, making her stagger. Then he yanked the door open and stormed out of the house. He heard her call after him, but he ignored it, breaking into a sprint down the path. The wind whistled in his ears. The overcast sky cast a dull grey light over the landscape. His feet flew hard and fast across the ground. There appeared to be no one else on the road into town, as far as he could see, which made his life easier. He quickened his pace further, hoping to reach the town and slip into the shadows of an alley before anyone noticed him.

_If you do this, it will be all over._

Envy's eyes widened. It was the soft voice again. He hadn't heard it in days. Doing his best to ignore it, he pushed himself still faster.

_If you relinquish control now, you'll never get it back._

"Who cares?" He snapped breathlessly, feeling a prick of anger.

_Leah will die._

Envy tripped and almost went sprawling, managing to regain his balance at the last second. He slowed his pace, taken off guard by the thought.

_Do you really think it will allow her to remain alive? If you give it control, the first thing it will do after killing Hohenheim is retrace your steps and finish her off._

By "it," Envy could only assume it was referring to the other voice. But he didn't want to believe what he was hearing.

"How do you know?" He retorted.

_She's the main reason you were able to overpower it in the first place. Don't think it will permit any threat to its control to remain in existence once its taken over again._

"I won't lose control," he growled.

_Do not deceive yourself. If you kill Hohenheim, your true self will die as well._

"Shut up. Just shut up!" He snapped, desperation seizing hold of him. He couldn't be turned aside now! This was the opportunity he'd been waiting for his entire life. He shook his head forcefully, hoping to permanently rid himself of the nagging voice. He couldn't afford to waver. There was only one course of action to take. Nothing could stop him now. He picked up his pace once more and fixed his eyes on the fast approaching town.


	10. Chapter 10

It didn't take him long to reach the town. The place she had mentioned was thankfully not far off. He could see the old building looming over its neighbors. Why had his father wanted to meet him? There could be no doubt in the man's mind that it would be the death of him. The hatred which had bubbled up inside Envy, burning like acid, felt harsh and unpleasant. Despite its familiarity, he found himself startled by the intensity of it. For several weeks he'd felt no trace of it whatsoever and its return came as a shock. Had he always lived in this much discomfort?

He reached the door of the building several minutes later. He tried the handle and upon finding it unlocked he slipped inside. The interior was a large space, dimly lit by several windows, each one covered by a protective metal screen. The wood floor was worn and squeaked in places as he walked across it. The shapes of basketball hoops loomed high on each end of the gym, their chains glinting faintly in the grey light, like empty gibbets. At the far end he saw a figure standing, his face hidden in shadow. Envy started towards him, each step filled with frightening determination. When he was ten strides off, the man stepped forward into the light.

"Hello...Son." At the sight of Hohenheim's face Envy's mind went blank. A dull roar filled his ears, his vision growing hazy. White hot fury burned its way through his veins.

**Kill him.**

He barely noticed the harsh voice. He could hardly think past the rush of heat filling him. The next thing he knew Hohenheim was pinned against the wall. Envy's hand was at the man's throat, his other fist drawn back in preparation to strike. He would beat him black and blue. But how could it ever make up for anything? Nothing could make up for the lost time. But then... for some reason he hesitated. Staring into his father's golden eyes he found a very different emotion there from what he'd been expecting. He'd been looking for fearful revulsion, but instead he found deep regret. The eyes were so familiar, so hated and so missed. In that instant, four-hundred years of pain, loneliness, insecurity and self loathing crashed over him and he found his vision swimming with unbidden tears. They were hot tears of anger, bitterness and shame.

"Why?!" He shouted, hardly realizing what he was saying. "What do they have that I don't? What was so wrong about me that you couldn't stay? _Why wasn't I good enough?!_ " The tears were rolling down his cheeks now. His father's eyes widened.

"Is that you...William?" He whispered. Envy's hand tightened on his throat, his drawn back fist trembling. Then inexplicably his father smiled. "You didn't kill Leah, did you? She does look an awful lot like—"

"Don't even say her name," Envy hissed. "It's your fault she died. It's _all your fault!_ " His words rang hollow in his own ears. He had made the choice. He had chosen alchemy over his childhood friend. The blame rested on no one but himself. And in that moment the past became painfully clear. His father had not left him without cause. He had driven the man away. From the instant he'd been dragged back into existence, a cruel malice had infested his heart. He'd been nothing but a monster from day one. Could he have changed things? Could he have made an effort to cling to his former humanity? Whatever the answer, it didn't matter now. He was rotten to the core. There was nothing in him left to save. He finally understood just how unworthy he was of the compassion Leah had treated him with. And he'd fully intended to murder her for it. Surely she'd sensed the evil in his heart. Couldn't she tell how despicably worthless he was? He'd given her every reason to hate and fear him, and she'd given him nothing in return but loving kindness. In that moment of realization her mercy cut him straight to the core.

**It's too late.**

The voice intruded into his thoughts.

**None of it matters anymore.**

"Tell me something," his father spoke up, voice hoarse past the hold Envy had on his throat. "After you kill me, will you kill Leah as well?" Envy stared at him wide-eyed. What right did he have to ask questions? What he did with Leah was none of Hohenheim's damn business! And yet... The words of warning from earlier echoed in his mind. What would happen to her after this? What if...

**Just let go.**

The voice purred seductively.

**Give me control. Only I can give you what you _really_ want.**

Envy wavered, torn between his knew, unfamiliar anxiety, and his long ingrained desires.

**Give it to me.**

At his hesitation the voice took on an impatient edge.

**Give me control. Give it to me _now_! Before it's too late! Don't throw away this opportunity. This is what you've always wanted!**

_What about Leah?_

The old voice whispered. It was soft, gentle, barely audible past the new voice hollering at him.

**Who gives a damn about her?!**

Envy abruptly released Hohenheim and staggered back several steps, cradling his head in his hands. He was losing his mind... He was losing his mind! An image plastered itself across the forefront of his thoughts. It was Hohenheim, his body pinned to a wall by a number of knives which had pierced him through--his head slumped forward, his blood running along the hilts of the weapons which had murdered him, dripping to form a puddle on the floor at his feet. For an instant, Envy couldn't help but feel the faintest hint of satisfaction at the sight. But just as it welled up within him the image blurred and flickered. Suddenly it was no longer Hohenheim he was staring at. It was Leah. Her slender form was pinned like a butterfly to a board. The life had vanished forever from her clear grey eyes. Envy's stomach wrenched and bile rose up in his throat at the sight. Past the horror which filled him he could hear the now very menacing voice screaming inside his mind.

**Kill them! _Kill them both! KILL THEM NOW!_**

Then somewhere deep within him, something grew still. It was a silence of determined clarity.

"No," he whispered. The moment the words left his lips he was hit by a wall of absolute rage. It seemed to come from without as much as within. He staggered from the force of it. His vision blurred and flickered like the rapid flutter of butterfly wings. Alarm filled him. Whatever it was that had just been bargaining with him, it was now attempting to seize control by force. With an act of sheer willpower he turned and staggered towards the door. Despite his hatred of the man, the soft voice had been right. If he killed Hohenheim it would be all over, not only for his father, but for Leah and him as well. He'd lived under the rule of the monster within him long enough to know exactly what it would do once it gained control. There was no doubt in his mind. And he didn't know if he would be able to fend it off this time.

He burst out into the street, trying to stay upright despite his head spinning and his ears ringing.

"William!" The desperate, familiar voice made him flinch in alarm. He turned and saw Leah standing across the street. She seemed to be wavering. He could see the uncertainty in her eyes even at this distance. He heard a scream of rage in his mind and everything went black for an instant. When his vision returned he found he'd staggered into the street in Leah's direction. A wash of horror crashed over him. He had to get away from her. He had to get away from everyone, or someone would wind up dead. He turned and bolted down the street away from her. She called after him but he blocked out the sound of her voice. He didn't pay attention to where he was running. A blind panic fuelled his steps. That he didn't run into anyone was a miracle. He saw a building at the end of the street. Without pausing to think, he made a beeline for it. He bounded up the front steps to the door and latched onto the handle. Astoundingly, it was unlocked. Without stopping to question it, he darted inside.

The door slid shut behind him with a click. He rushed forward, hardly aware of his surroundings. It was the utter silence that finally got his attention. There was a hushed blanket of stillness over the rows of empty pews. A skylight in the roof spilled light onto the alter in front of him. He was standing in the center isle of a church. Looking up at the far wall he saw a large, wooden cross fixed there. It was the same symbol he'd seen Leah wearing. His legs suddenly gave out and he fell to his knees, gasping for breath, vision swimming with tears. A desperate fear gripped him. He was going to lose control. It was going to win. If it did, Leah would die. And it wouldn't be short or painless. Calandra had died because of him. And now Leah was going to as well. His throat constricted.

"Help me," his voice was barely audible. He hadn't the slightest idea who he was talking to. "Someone...anyone... Please," he whispered, "Save me from myself. Please save me from myself." His eyes slid shut, the tears slowly rolling down his cheeks. He could feel the pain and rage consuming him. His energy was spent. He couldn't hold it back any longer. Finally his hold on consciousness slipped through his fingers and darkness engulfed him.

_William_

A voice. It was the first thing he became aware of. How he had heard it, he didn't know. He couldn't feel anything. It was like he'd been taken out of his own body. He was blind. The next thing he heard chilled his soul. It was laughter--soft, malicious laughter.

**Help me.**

The words were sharply mocking, mimicking the final desperate plea he'd made before losing consciousness.

**You don't need help. You need _me_. Just give up already. You'll never win this.**

It was as if someone was breathing down the back of his neck. He turned, trying to find the source of the voice in the darkness.

"Hello?" He called. His voice echoed through the air, yet he couldn't feel the words on his lips; no air from his lungs had formed them. Something stirred in him. Fear. He was afraid.

_William_

It was the soft voice again.

"Please, where are you?" He called, reaching out hands he couldn't feel, trying to grasp something he couldn't see. What was the use? What was he hoping to find? Forgiveness? That was impossible. It just couldn't be possible. But he wanted it. Frustration welled up inside him, and a cry of despairing lamentation spilled forth from him, echoing in the darkness. "I'm sorry!" The words seemed tear themselves out of him, fighting through a resistance he didn't understand.

**Sorry? Sorry for what? Are you really so pathetic that you'll grovel to someone you don't even know? What's the point? Don't be a fool.**

He choked on what had to be tears, though he couldn't feel them.

"I know...I know I'm not...I'll never be able...I can't make up for anything..."

_Your ransom has already been paid._

He stared into space, wide eyed, uncomprehending.

_Do you want to be saved?_

It was the same question Leah had asked him. He hadn't had an answer to it before. But he did now.

"Yes," he whispered. Then all at once light spilled into the darkness. It was white and blinding, and yet it didn't hurt his eyes.

**_NO!_ **

The scream of rage echoed behind him.

_Don't look back._

In the light he saw a figure above him. He couldn't make out who it was, but he saw them reach a hand towards him, palm up for him to grasp. He reached out and clasped it tightly, clinging to it like a lifeline. And then the light flooded his senses. A warmth he'd never before experienced flowed into him, filling up an emptiness that had always existed in his heart. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt complete.

~~~~~***~~~~~

"William!"

The sound of a familiar voice calling him slowly roused his unconscious mind. He lay for a moment with his eyes closed savoring the gentle warmth in his core. Though the initial brilliance of it had faded, it left behind a peacefulness he'd never before experienced.

_I love you._

The whispered words echoed for the last time through his slowly waking mind. His eyes fluttered open and he found himself staring up at a roof that sloped upward towards a skylight. Sunlight had broken through the clouds outside, its rays finding their way into the silent sanctuary. Envy turned his head and caught a glimpse of golden hair out of the corner of his eye. Without having to look at the rest of himself he knew he was back in his true form. He hadn't consciously willed the transformation, and yet he knew instinctively that it was his last. Something in his core confirmed the truth of it. His powers were gone. With this knowledge came a wash of incredible, healing relief. He was finally free from all the lies. This was who he was and he no longer had any desire to change that.

"William?" The tremulous voice drew his attention outward. He recognized it. He raised his head slowly, finding that despite his final transformation his body felt perfectly rested. There was no weakness or pain left in it anywhere. He sat up all the way. Glancing down at himself he found that his former outfit had changed back into the clothes he'd worn long ago; the white dress shirt and dark green vest were distantly familiar. His gaze was drawn to the end of the isle, near the door of the church. There was Leah, standing with one hand resting on the back of a pew, the other raised to her mouth. Her eyes were wide and her face was ashen. One look at her expression confirmed to him that she had witnessed his transformation.

"Leah," he greeted her, his true voice sounding out her name for the first time. Though he spoke softly, it was readily audible in the quiet that reigned around them. She simply stared at him, frozen in place. Slowly he rose to his feet. He took several steps towards her, but then stopped. Now that he was closer he could see her trembling, her eyes filled with tears. "It's me," he assured her.

"You look just like…" She broke off, her voice failing her.

"I know," he replied calmly.

"But how…?"

"I tried to tell you earlier, but I knew you wouldn't believe me." At his words she slowly shook her head.

"I don't understand," she whispered.

"It's a very long story," he replied resignedly. She continued to stare at him, standing perfectly still. "Are you afraid of me?" He asked softly. After a moment's pause she slowly shook her head again, lowering her hand from her mouth. The tears in her eyes had spilled over and down her cheeks, but she didn't seem to be aware of them. Seeing her uncertainty over how to react, he moved first, crossing the distance between them and coming to a stop in front of her. She seemed smaller and more fragile than before, but he knew it was he that had changed and not her. She held his gaze unblinkingly, as if afraid to let him out of her sight for even an instant. He could see the confusion and disbelief swirling behind her grey eyes. He knew she was experiencing the same thing he had felt when he'd first laid eyes on her that morning in the kitchen several weeks earlier. The dizzying dissonance of seeing a person identical in appearance to a lost loved one, while at the same time knowing perfectly well it was someone else. He longed to reassure her somehow, but how could he? In this form he was like a ghost to her--a walking reminder of the man she'd lost. He knew how unsettling that was. It had taken weeks for him to adjust to her. There was no way to know how long it would take her to adjust to him. Perhaps she never would.

"What are you?" The tone of her voice startled him. He'd expected fear, revulsion perhaps. But he now saw that the uncertainty in her large eyes was mixed with something like wonder. She was shaken, but not repulsed. Seeming hardly aware of herself, she closed the last of the distance between them with a single step. He stared down at her, overwhelmed by surprise when she haltingly raised a hand to his cheek. Her fingertips traced lightly across his skin as if trying to reassure herself that he was real and not just an apparition. He reached up and laid his hand over hers.

"I believe...I'm human now," he answered her question softly. Her eyes widened.

"Now?"

"As I said, it's a long story. And not a terribly pleasant one at that," his eyes grew grim.

"I'm willing to listen if you're willing to tell me," she suggested uncertainly. "I can hardly doubt you now." At her words his gaze softened and he lowered her hand from his face, though he continued to hold it. Then both of them jumped in surprise when the door to the church opened. Leah's hand slipped from his as she turned to see the new arrival. As Envy's gaze settled on the man in the doorway his expression hardened.

"Hohenheim," he greeted him brittlely. His father stepped inside, allowing the door to shut behind him, but did not attempt to approach further. Behind the glasses his golden eyes were wide with shock at the sight of his firstborn son in his true form. After a moment of frozen silence, Envy stepped around Leah and strode slowly towards the man. When he stopped they stood eye to eye, father and son, striking in their resemblance. Envy's eyes were hard as he stared at the man he'd so long hated. Beneath the weight of his son's gaze, Hohenheim's surprise melted away into regret. When he finally spoke his voice was hoarse.

"I know I can never make up for what I've done to you; but for what its worth, not a day has passed by that I have not regretted what my selfishness put you through," he said. "I don't expect you to ever accept it, but I am more sorry than you'll ever know," he shut his eyes, unable to hold his son's gaze any longer. Envy stared at his father. The pain was still there, deep down inside him, and so was the anger. He had nursed it for far too many years for it to vanish now. And yet...what right did he have to hold this man personally accountable for his sins? Though they had caused him so much pain and suffering, he himself had done far worse to others. And he'd been forgiven. Could he really refuse to extend that to another person? Envy's hands clenched into fists, his jaw tightening. Was it even possible to overcome four-hundred years of anger and resentment? Hohenheim stood with his head bowed, his shoulders drooping as if the weight of all the centuries gone past was bearing down on him. For the first time Envy noticed the lines creasing the man's face--lines of stress and sorrow. The once proud figure of a man had withered, despite appearing no older than forty. In his worn travel cloak and boots, with his golden hair showing the first traces of grey, he appeared an old, weatherbeaten figure. It occurred to Envy in a way that it never had before that his father was a truly pitiable man. All the years of cheating death, jumping bodies, and running from his mistakes had taken their toll. Who was he, Envy, to cast judgement on such a man? He'd been no better himself. In fact, he'd been worse. And though he'd blamed it all on his father, he himself was the only one responsible for the choices he had made.

"I will never forget." Envy's words were quiet and his eyes were guarded. He tried to reach for the words he knew he needed to say, but for a moment they evaded him. When he finally found them, they tasted like bitter medicine. "But... I forgive you." Despite his anger, sincerity found its way into his tone. He meant every word. Hohenheim's gaze snapped up to meet his, eyes widening with disbelief. Words seemed to fail him, but tears welled in his eyes. They spilled down his cheeks, guilt and relief washing over his features. He wavered, and then Envy was forced to take a step back as his father fell to his knees in front of him. Hohenheim was shaking as he raised a hand to cover his face. As Envy stared down at him he felt a weight that he hasn't realized he'd been carrying lift from his shoulders. Without a word he stepped around Hohenheim and opened the door, slipping out of the church into the afternoon sun.

Outside, Envy came to a stop at the base of the steps. He glanced up at the sky and found the clouds were rapidly scattering, revealing the pure blue behind them. A cool wind whispered past him, playing with his loose golden hair. Autumn was fast approaching. Soon the leaves would begin to turn. Where would he be by the time they had all fallen and were hidden beneath a blanket of snow? Behind him he heard the door open and shut. Soft footsteps descended the stairs and came to a stop next to him. He glanced down at Leah. She was staring at him with a look that took him off guard.

"What?" He asked. She wavered for a moment, and then without a word she threw her arms around him.

"I'm so proud of you," she whispered, her breath tickling across his collarbone as she clung to him. He stared down at her wide-eyed. Then, after a moment, the smallest of smiles tugged at his lips. Wrapping his arms carefully around her, he savored the feeling of holding her close, knowing he might not get the chance again. He could feel her tension and knew that just looking at him must be painful for her. With reluctance he finally spoke the thought that was weighing on his mind.

"Would it be better if I left now?" He asked softly. She pulled back in surprise, staring up at him with as searching gaze.

"What makes you ask that?"

"Seeing me in this form must be difficult," he said. Understanding flashed across her features and then she glanced down, staring at the ground between them.

"It is, a bit. But... if you're willing to, I'd be happier if you stayed," she admitted.

"I'm not Edmund," he pointed out. Her gaze darted up to meet his once more. She stared at him a moment before speaking.

"I know you aren't. And I'm not Calandra," she replied. "But I'd like to hear your story. I know we aren't the same people, but..."

"Perhaps we can start over and not mess things up this time?" he finished the sentence for her, raising an eyebrow questioningly. He saw amusement flicker across her features.

"I'd like that," she smiled. Without further ado he swept into a courtly bow.

"My name is William. Will you do me the honor of telling me yours?" He asked solemnly. She let out a chuckle.

"I'm Leah," she replied, and he saw her eyes dancing with amusement as he straightened up again.

"Leah, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." Though his tone was still solemn, there was warmth in his eyes.

"Likewise," she said with a small grin. Then she reached out and took his hand. "Lets go home," she suggested. Her hand fit perfectly in his own, the warmth of it reassuring. He smiled. 

Home. He liked the sound of that.

_** ~End~ ** _


End file.
